


Loyalty, Sins, and an Outlaw

by MustardGal



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Drama & Romance, F/M, God I love my angst, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Light Smut, Love Triangles, Major Character Injury, Maybe fluff, Original Character(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:53:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 31,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21970966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MustardGal/pseuds/MustardGal
Summary: (Blood, Sins, and an Outlaw alternate ending.  This is a three part novella.  Can be read stand alone.)Arthur Morgan has lost his memory.  He wound up on Charlotte Balfour’s doorstep broken and bruised, not knowing who he is or how he ended up there.  As time passes, he heals, and starts to fall for the beautiful Charlotte, who’s everything he’s ever dreamed of... but nightmares continue to haunt him of his past, the people he left behind, the torture he had to endure, and he may not be ready to face it...
Relationships: Abigail Roberts Marston/John Marston, Charlotte Balfour/Arthur Morgan, Micah Bell/Dutch van der Linde, Sadie Adler/Arthur Morgan
Comments: 9
Kudos: 39





	1. Part One: Sins

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Blood, Sins, and an Outlaw](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18996532) by [MustardGal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MustardGal/pseuds/MustardGal). 



A whiff of coffee filled the air, invading the dreams of the sleeping outlaw. He didn’t know why the coffee caught his attention, but it enraptured his mind and forced him awake. He opened his eyes wide, seeking the source of the smell and found a steaming cup of coffee on a table by his bed. 

A bed he couldn’t remember ever getting into, nor ever remember falling asleep. As a matter of fact, he couldn’t remember much. He was familiar with the smell of coffee and had an inkling he had a small addiction as his stomach growled at the thought. Food also sounded great, too. But he couldn’t remember what  _ types _ of food. 

He took a look at his surroundings. He was in a small, quaint bedroom, filled with humble belongings. A simple desk and a wooden chair, a bookshelf filled with plenty of books. There was one lonely picture frame on the desk and he started to sit up to get a better view.

It was a mistake moving his body. He blanched and fell back on his pillow, pain shooting through his shoulder and his chest. He gasped and bit his lip against the throbbing pain. Lord, did it ache. Black dots danced around his vision. 

“Here, drink this,” a light voice said. He peeked open his eyes and saw a dark haired woman standing next to him, a cup of tea in her hands. Her brown eyes were full of worry, and a bit of fear as well. 

Tenderly, he sat up and with the ladies help, he drank the tea slowly. It was a bitter tea, one he didn’t like at all. Yet he drank it, hoping it would take the pain away. Once he drank half, he fell back on the pillows, his energy gone. He closed his eyes and shuddered. 

“Sleep, now,” the woman said, her voice soothing. “I’ll come check on you in a bit.”

He faded in and out during the next few days, accepting what tea and food the lady tried to give him. It was only until the fever faded that he began comprehending what was going on. He was injured, sick from fever and infection. The kind lady - who called herself Charlotte - was taking care of him. 

She asked him questions and he never answered. He knew how, he just… didn’t know what to say. 

One morning when he could sit up in the bed, Charlotte came into the room with a bag full of items. “I’m hoping you’ll speak to me after you see this,” she said, setting the bag down on the side of the bed. She began pulling out articles of clothing, a wad of money, and a worn journal. 

She handed him the journal first. There were scorch marks along the edges as if it had been tossed into a fire and the leather was covered in scratches. “I read some, just to get to know who you are,” she murmured. 

He took it with his good arm and set it on his lap. He hadn’t spoken to her, yet. He didn’t know why. Maybe he was afraid. But now was the moment. “I don’t…” the words felt numb and loose in his mouth. He cleared his throat; his voice felt rugged and foreign. “I don’t… know what this is.”

Charlotte sat down in the chair next to the bed and brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “I assumed… it was your journal.”

It was his? He flicked open the cover and saw his name etched into the leather, the letters singed with black. Arthur Morgan. Yes, that felt right. “My name is Arthur Morgan,” he said in a quiet voice, feeling slightly accomplished he remembered that part of himself.

Charlotte frowned. “You don’t seem overly sure.”

“I’ll be honest… I know my name is Arthur Morgan… but I don’t know who I am. Or what I am. Or how I got these wounds.” Arthur looked at his bare shoulder, the bullet wound bright red, the last of the blood crusted over. Fading yellow and blue bruises enveloped his upper torso and face. A burn on his chest, forever branding him. His left hand had been stabbed through and was wrapped in thick bandages Charlotte had been changing every few hours. His foot twitched, reminding him of the worst injury. His swollen, broken right leg. He hadn’t been able to walk at all. 

The past week he had left shame at the door as Charlotte took care of him in every single way. He didn’t have much to begin with as he didn’t know who he was or what he was doing there. 

“I don’t know how you got the way you are, either,” Charlotte said. She crossed her arms. “Do you remember how you came to my door?” 

Arthur shook his head. 

She let out a long sigh. “My old horse brought you here. The mustang? We lost him a few months ago, but he found his way back. With you attached. And I’ve been nursing you to health ever since. And now you’re telling me you don’t know who you are.” 

Arthur took her in, finally noticing the heavy bags under her eyes, the skeletal look of her hands. Her voice was soft, her gaze tired. She was a striking woman diving deep into exhaustion. She was pushing her limits, and he had caused much of it. “Ma’am, I’m sorry. I appreciate the help, but you didn’t have to help me.”

”I did,” she responded softly. Her eyes narrowed as she seemed to reflect on something. She took a deep and shaky breath. “I found you the day I buried my husband. He was killed by a bear… and I’ll be frank, I did not plan on making it long after that. But…” she sniffed. “Then you fell practically on my doorstep and I suddenly knew I couldn’t give up. I saved you as much as I could… because by saving you, I found a reason to continue on.

”You nearly died. The infection was fierce, but you held through. I powered through my husband’s medical books - he was a banker, but had had some medical training and kept his medical books - and did the best I could. You’re alive. But my supplies are getting low, so I must make a trip to Annesburg.” 

“You’ve done much for me,” Arthur said poorly. “I can handle myself while you’re gone.”

“Just one thing before I leave…” Charlotte stood and dusted off her skirts. “Promise me I can trust you? That you’re not some ruffian who I should’ve let die?”

Arthur leaned back further into his pillows. “I promise,” he said, though he knew it probably wasn’t true. He didn’t know who he was, but somehow, he felt his past life hadn’t been an honest one. Yet he was determined to get better… who he had been didn’t matter. Charlotte had given much to save him, and he was not ready to disappoint her.

Charlotte left early the next morning, taking Roy with her. She said she would be back the next day with supplies and clean clothing for Arthur. He hadn’t been able to fit into her husband’s clothing, who must have been very scrawny in build. 

Arthur couldn’t even leave his bed to the outhouse, so he had to make use of an old bucket under the bed. There was old bread and cheese left for him on the bedside table, which he ate sparingly. 

He took the time to dig through the rest of the satchel and found an old whiskey bottle and a half empty pack of cigarettes, plus a few herbs strewn about. He didn’t remember why they were there, but they were a random assortment. He set them aside. Clearly he was someone who lived a rough lifestyle. He drank the tea slowly Charlotte had left in a kettle by his bed and admired the journal belonging to this Arthur Morgan. 

Many of the pages were stuck together with dried blood and several entries had been torn out. A good portion of the first half had survived, but the remaining pages were unintelligible. The first few entries were simple, but angry. Arthur couldn’t remember the people he described in the entry, no sense of who they were. Arthur had been on the run with them and they sounded like family - but he didn’t know who they were. 

As he looked at the drawings, a sense of recognition came over him. He enjoyed drawing. The journal was full of it - animals, plants, people. Many of the pages were destroyed and hard to piece together, but clearly he had written or drawn about anything that had caught his fancy. 

He dug through the satchel once more and found a short, unsharpened pencil. It only felt natural for him to start a new journal entry and describe his experience. There were a few blank, unbloodied pages he could make use of.

The tea must have been powerful, as he fell asleep, pencil still in hand. He woke several times during the night, shivering, as if he were still in the snow, deep in the mountains. Other times, he woke up to the sound of voices and he looked everywhere about the dark cabin. Only the howls of the coyotes echoed in the distance. He was alone.

When Charlotte returned the next day, he was glad to see her. She knocked softly on the door and let herself in, a large bag in her arms. She gave him a tired smile and began unloading the bag on the desk. “I’m glad you’re still alive,” she said, pulling out several strips of fresh linen for bandages. 

“Seem I’ll live through this yet,” Arthur affirmed. He sat up in bed, his ribs protesting. His stomach growled loudly and he reddened at the sound.

Charlotte let out a small laugh. “That’s good; means you’re on the mend - I’ll whip us up some lunch. Having Roy came in handy. I got lots of canned food, potatoes, some meat. It’ll last us a couple weeks, at least.” She wandered out and returned with another bag. “Here, some fresh shirts, pants, the necessities.” She set down the pile of clothing on top of the dresser, a dark brown cowboy hat sitting on top. “I’ll go fix us some lunch now. Do rest up, Mr. Morgan.”

“‘Course,” Arthur responded. 

The next week went by slowly. There wasn’t much Arthur could do except wait for his body to heal. It was his leg which worried him. Charlotte warned it might heal poorly and she hadn’t been wrong so far. 

The day finally came where Arthur was determined to test out his leg. He was itching to move around; the room he had been confined in was getting smaller and smaller by the day. He and Charlotte only conversed in small conversations here and there, but they could only say so much to each other. She would keep to herself much of the day, heading to the yard to do some outside work.

She missed her husband, that was for sure. She would grab fresh wild flowers every single morning and make sure to visit his grave. Yet she never brought him up in conversation. His death was still too recent. 

“I found this stick that’ll do,” Charlotte said, walking into the room. She held up a thick branch just tall enough for Arthur. “You’ll lean on this. We won’t have you put too much weight on your leg today.”

“Mighty kind of you.” Arthur tossed aside the flowery covers and tenderly moved his feet to the floor. His mending leg was hard to bend as the break had been near the knee cap. It would take several months to even put enough pressure on it to walk without a cane. Still, he was ready to give it a shot. 

Charlotte put a hand under his arm and helped him stand on his good leg. “So far so good,” she said. “Ready to try a step?”

“Sure.” Arthur leaned slightly on his right leg, which ached in response. His knee twinged and he was quick to let off pressure. “This is gonna take awhile,” he said grimly. Charlotte helped him sit back down. 

“We’ll practice every day,” Charlotte reassured him. “Your leg just lacks in strength right now. Give it time. We have plenty of it.”

Arthur let out a long sigh. “That we do.”

* * *

That night he dreamed. He felt cold, the wind howling and men shouting. He couldn’t feel his hands or move his legs, nor scream because of a gag in his mouth. Blurry faces appeared before him, laughing and gawking at him. He couldn’t budge, couldn’t say anything. Yet he could see the weapons clear as day - the knife that locked his hand to the table. The metal pole landing on his knee. The hand that reached forward to him, unbuttoning his shirt. 

Arthur jolted awake and pushed against the form standing over him. A light yell and the form stumbled backwards, the candle in their hands falling to the floor. Reality sunk into Arthur as he remembered the soft sheets he was laying in, the smell of coffee, smoke, the fresh breeze coming in through the window. He blinked and struggled to get out of bed, seeing that he had pushed Charlotte to the floor. 

“Stay in bed,” Charlotte commanded lightly, jumping to her feet. She was quick to grab the candle from the ground and set it on the table. “You were yelling, Arthur.”

“I’m sorry,” Arthur choked out and fell back into the bed, breathing heavily. He wiped the sweat from his brow. “Are you hurt?”

“No, just a bit surprised. Are you doing okay?”

“Just… spooked,” Arthur sighed and laid an arm over his eyes. Charlotte left the room with a small good night. 

Nightmares trespassed into his dreams during the next month. There wasn’t a night where he would wake up in a sweat, his heart racing and hurting. He was missing someone or something. Some connection he couldn’t place. The only thing the nightmares did was scare him away from his journal which he left tucked under his pillow. It felt like the nightmares were a warning to his past. He wasn’t ready to face it. 

His free time was spent reading and drawing. Charlotte had been so kind to grab a new journal. His entries were short and simple, the longest entries describing the nightmares that were haunting him. He dreamed of being locked away somewhere, of the incident that left him wounded and barely alive. He dreamed of someone rescuing him then leaving him behind. He just didn’t know who and it upset him to no end. 

Some nights he would dream of something pleasant - being surrounded by people he loved, their faces lost to the dream. Voices that were familiar and welcoming, only for the dream to turn dark and he was locked away once more. 

Summer was ending by the time Arthur felt comfortable walking with a cane. His leg had healed to a point where he could take long walks around the property to get the muscle back. 

One hot summer day he wandered outside to find Charlotte up to her arms in dirt, her hair pulled back in a messy bun. 

“Do you need any help?” Arthur offered. 

“Are you able to kneel on your leg?” Charlotte sat back and rubbed her nose. “I thought not. This is where I’ll be growing my corn, tomatoes… among other things. I think I have this handled. But I can use your help on this…” she stood up and wandered over to the shed. She pushed open the door and peeked in. “My firewood is looking a little low, if we’re to stock up before winter.”

“I can do that.” Arthur grabbed an ax she handed to him. “I also noticed a lot of fence posts you have in a pile behind the house. What were your plan with those?”

“I wanted goats, pigs…” she shrugged. “That was gonna be Cal’s job for the summer. But it’s kind of getting too late in the season.”

Arthur looked back at the overgrown land. “I can work on that for you. You have all the lumber you need. It’d help me get my strength back, too.”

Charlotte nodded. “Feel free to do what you want.”

For the next couple of weeks Arthur would wake up early and head out to build the fence for Charlotte. She had done much for him, healing and boarding him, that it felt good to repay her this way. At first, the work was strenuous. His arms ached from swinging the axe and his leg protested him standing for long periods of time. 

One evening as a cool breeze filtered through the mountainside, Arthur noticed an old rifle in the shed. He picked it up and nearly toppled over, a memory ripping through his head. It wasn’t much of a memory, more like the knowledge of the weapon. He was an expert marksman and hunter and had his fair share of guns. 

“Charlotte,” he called out, setting the gun aside. “When you found me, did I have any weapons?”

“No,” she responded. She was sitting outside her house, a book in her lap. She looked surprised. “It was just you and the satchel.”

“I knew how to shoot,” Arthur said happily. “I was good at it to. You know that rifle in the shed? I can teach you how to hunt. You were just sayin’ the other night you don’t know how. One deer should last you several weeks, at least.”

Charlotte closed her book and smiled. “Cal knew the basics of hunting, but not much. I’d love to know.”

“We’ll practice shootin’ first.” Arthur went into the house and gathered some old cans and bottles laying around. He went outside and lined them up along the fence posts, then retrieved the rifle from the shed. He dug around and found several boxes of bullets. He grabbed one and found Charlotte ready.

“This is the first time I’ve seen you so happy,” she commented. “Do you remember anything?”

“I don’t, but… I know my way around a gun. That’s for sure.” Arthur set aside his cane and lifted the gun. The wound on his left hand had nearly completely healed, leaving a nasty scar on either side. He didn’t mind. He lifted the gun and took a deep breath before pulling the trigger. 

One bottle shattered. Yes. It was like finding out a part of him he had missed sorely. “Now, Charlotte, let’s have you try.”

“Okay…” Charlotte took the gun and aimed, with Arthur giving her small tips on how to correctly hold the gun. She missed her first shot completely, then was a little better on the second. Arthur demonstrated one more time, then she went another round and managed to hit one small can. 

“I did it!” she cheered, a wide smile on her face. “Oh, Cal would be so proud.” At Arthur’s insistence, she shot off a few more rounds, each shot more accurate than the last. “Maybe you can teach me how to properly hunt?”

“I could do that.” Arthur the rifle from her and returned it back to the shed. “I’ve been meanin’ to ask you this, Charlotte… why you out here, all alone? I been here a few months now, and you ain’t have a single visitor.”

“It’s because I don’t know anyone around here,” Charlotte sighed. She sat down in her chair while Arthur sat down in one across from her. “Cal and I were rich city kids. We had had enough of that life, you know. So we moved here, where nobody could tell us what to do. We taught ourselves how to build this house. It’s basic, but it was ours, you know? We was gonna make it last, have a family out here. My pa still supports me, but I hadn’t written to him in… well, since Cal died, I guess. I guess if I wrote him, he’d come fetch me back. And I didn’t want that.” 

“Instead, you took a stranger into your home who doesn’t know who he is.”

“Obviously a bit crazy of me.” Charlotte ran a hand through her hair. “At least you turned out kind enough. And you built me a fence and a chicken coop to boot.”

“Speaking of, we should probably get you those here soon. You reckon Annesburg might have them?” 

“Maybe. St. Denis might be our best choice, since I have a few other items we could do with around here.”

“Then it’s settled. Tomorrow we’ll leave for the town and I’ll teach you how to hunt along the way.”

“I don’t even have a wagon… or my own horse. So we’d have to buy that, too.”   
“Do you have the money for that?” 

“Like I said, my pa still supports me. We can stop at a bank, and we’ll be fine.”

* * *

They left early the next morning, the sky grey and a chill in the air. The first stop they made was Cal’s grave, where Charlotte said a quiet prayer. They continued on shortly after, a small silence between them. It was going to be a several days ride to St. Denis and they wanted to make the best use of their time.

Arthur was excited to get out and explore. He had even shaved his face and cut his hair to have a better appearance. He hadn’t left Charlotte’s property ever since he wound up on her doorstep and maybe he would run into someone who would know him, someone who could give him a hint to who he was. The journal could have told him, but it was in such a condition Arthur hadn’t tempted to read it. It was best forgotten. He had his new journal in his satchel and continued to write and draw in it daily. 

“We could stop at a stable along the way and get a horse for you,” Arthur suggested. “I am sure we’ll come across one. One sturdy enough for travel and to pull a wagon.”

“Sure. I know there’s one right past Annesburg. Let’s stop there.”

A couple hours and a draft horse later, the two continued down the road to St. Denis. The weather only seemed to get hotter and stuffier the farther south they went, so much so that Arthur had to remove his jacket and loosen his collar. He had at least a couple hundred dollars in his satchel to buy a new wardrobe and a new set of guns with. 

The first night they camped near the road under a set of trees. Arthur went about building a campfire, moving slowly. His legs had cramped up during the ride and his muscles were screaming from having ridden so long. 

“What’s St. Denis like?” Arthur asked as they cooked the rabbit they had hunted earlier. Charlotte had been taking the hunting training seriously and was well on her way to becoming a hunter herself, which Arthur was pleased with. She’d be a mountain woman yet. 

“Busy… corrupted. Wealthy people running the place,” Charlotte said. “It isn’t very pretty. But, they do have the best supplies there. I figure we’ll spend one night at the hotel and continue on our way.”

Two days later, they arrived dusty and grimy to the city of St. Denis. Arthur was a bit astounded at the amount of people moving about, having been kept alone in the mountains with only Charlotte for company. Street urchins ran back and forth while the streetcar passed and people of every status crowded the busy streets. It was much different from what Arthur had imagined. A black cloud loomed over the city, casting a dreary look upon the place. He wasn’t very impressed.

They checked into the hotel and bought two seperate rooms. After they cleaned the grime of the streets off, they met down in the hotel lobby. 

“Do you want to grab a bite to eat somewhere?” Charlotte asked. She had changed into a deep blue dress that accented her curves. Her hair was pinned simple back and her cheeks were flushed. “Despite me complaining about St. Denis, they really do have some wonderful restaurants… and it’ll be ages before I can do this again.”

Arthur offered her his arm. “Lead the way.” He had changed as well, opting for a clean white shirt and dark blue vest tucked into his jeans. 

They dallied on their way to dinner, stopping and admiring the windows of different shops. Arthur still walked with his cane, now a proper one, and his leg only ached him if he landed harshly on it. 

Arthur was pleased to see Charlotte so happy. She had been quiet and depressed back at the home, going day by day. Now that she saw a future living as remote as she did, she resonated happiness.

“You’ve been staring, Mr. Morgan,” Charlotte teased him as they passed by a clothing shop. 

“I just been thinkin’... you seem happier now. When we first met, I admit I wasn’t at my best, for obvious reasons. But we’ll make it through this, Charlotte, and you’ll live a happy life. You deserve that much, at least.”

Charlotte glanced away, a bit of sorrow flashing in her eyes. “I’m just sad I have to do it without Cal. It was our dream, you know. And now I must complete it alone.”

“Well, you have me… however long you mind me livin’ at your place, that is.”

“You’re welcome to leave whenever you want, Mr. Morgan. But I am not going to lie, you’ve been a good roommate.” 

“You as well. I owe you my life. Dinner is on me, wherever you want it.” 

They chose a tiny little french restaurant and didn’t hold back on splurging the food. They ordered wine and talked about the future of the home in the mountains, what else Charlotte wanted done to it, what they saw for themselves. Arthur didn’t have much to share. He just couldn’t remember and didn’t want to. 

His life with Charlotte was perfect and he didn’t want that to change.

After dinner he escorted Charlotte back to the hotel, the road dancing a bit as he walked. There was a ringing in his ear and permanent smile on his face. Charlotte was giggling at something Arthur couldn’t remember, but he liked the sound of her laughter. It was soft, sweet. It was a sound he wanted to protect, to cherish. They held hands as they walked, the lights of the city passing them by. 

As they stopped in front of Charlotte’s hotel room, he took her hand and lightly kissed her knuckles. She was a shorter woman who stared up at him with a flushed gaze, biting her lips. 

“I think I like ya,” Arthur whispered to her, his heart beating against his chest. “You’re beautiful, smart, a wonderful woman.”

“I think…” Charlotte took a deep breath. “I think you’re a good man, Arthur Morgan. But I hardly know you. You hardly know yourself.”

Arthur nodded. “I ain’t gonna lie to you. You might find out something you may not like. I may find out something I may not like. But the fact is, I may never remember. I won’t pursue you if you don’t want me to.” He was prepared to take a step back and let go of her hand. 

As he turned away he heard her say, “I think I do, Mr. Morgan. Want you to pursue me, that is. Thing is, we been working well together. I’m just… it’s only been a few months after Cal. I’m still heartbroken. I still miss him.” Charlotte grabbed his arm and forced him back around to face her. “I think I could love you, though,” she ended in a whisper. 

“I’m willin’ to wait for you,” Arthur murmured. He ran a few fingers against her soft cheek and leaned down, grasping her lips in his. It was tender and hesitant, yet she returned his kiss, her hands grasping his arm, encouraging him. He broke off the kiss and took a step back, his eyes full of wanting. “You take care now, Miss Charlotte. I’ll see you in the morning.” He turned back into his room and shut the door behind him.

His heart was racing, his emotions all over the place. It had been awhile since he had been with someone, not that he could remember anyways. It felt like it had been years since he had last fallen for another, yet he couldn’t help feel like he was forgetting someone. From his past, maybe? Someone very dear. 

It didn’t matter at that moment. He closed the drapes and started undressing down to his underclothes. The room was spinning just a bit and he was ready to sleep his yearning away. The bed creaked as he crawled under the covers. 

A few minutes later there was a soft knock on his door and it creeped open. Arthur shot up to find Charlotte creeping into the room, the hallway light outlining her form. She was dressed in her nightgown, her hair let loose on her shoulders. As Arthur sat on the edge of the bed she closed the distance between them and kissed him passionately on the lips, all sense of reason went out the door. 

* * *

_ Arthur was laying on the ground in a pool of his own blood. His shoulder had been shot point blank and stars were dancing across his vision, beckoning to him for sleep. He was going to die here, failing all the others. They were all going to be captured by the Pinkertons, the O’Driscolls, every single one of them… because of him. _

_ Blearily he realized he was dragged to a corner of the basement, the smell of old whiskey surrounding him. Three men surrounded him, throwing punches and kicks, bruising him to no end. He didn’t know when they would stop and he couldn’t even try to prevent them. He let them have their way; he had already failed. _

_ After two of them left, one of them stayed behind. Arthur finally came to, the ringing in his ears fading and his vision returning, the black dots and stars disappearing. He was lying awkwardly on his side, the man kneeling from behind. He felt hands down his pants, stroking his length. At first Arthur didn’t comprehend what was happening, then he felt his body responding. He flushed red with anger and tried to flail back at the man, only to be smacked harshly on the side of the face. As the stranger’s hands trailed back and pulled down his pants, Arthur let himself fall to oblivion, the man’s grunts of pleasure fading into his dreams, and he fell unconscious once more. _

* * *

Thunder cackled and Arthur woke up in a huff, his whole body trembling. The feel of the man’s touch was still on his mind, making him feel very ill. He stumbled over the side of the bed and vomited into the bucket until his stomach was empty. He pushed the bucket aside and lay against the bed, taking deep breaths. 

Charlotte had woken up and started rubbing his shoulder, concern written all over her face. She handed him a cup of water. “What happened, Arthur? What’s wrong? You were screaming for him to stop.”

“I failed,” Arthur croaked, his throat raw from the vomiting. He accepted the water and downed it in one gulp. “I don’t know who. But I failed them. I was taken captive, Charlotte. Beaten to a pulp… they did things nobody should ever have done to them.” He shuddered at the memories. Why did he remember the men, when he couldn’t even remember his friends? The ones he had failed? 

Charlotte hugged him closely to her chest. “You’re safe now. You’re here with me. You escaped. You’re going to be okay, Arthur.”

“But my friends ain’t. And I don’t even know who they are.”

“Don’t think about it too much. Please, come back to bed.” 

At Charlotte’s gentle nudging, Arthur climbed back into bed while Charlotte dumped the bucket. He couldn’t stop the shivering or his rushing thoughts. Charlotte held him close and started singing a quiet song, one he didn’t know, but it helped calm him down with her soothing voice. He fell asleep in her arms.

When he woke, Charlotte was pulling on her nightgown. She blushed lightly once she realized he was awake. “Hey, you,” she said and sat on the bed. She brushed aside a lock of Arthur’s hair. “How are you feeling?”

“Besides my head pounding and feeling like I’m being hit with a brick repeatedly?” 

Charlotte grinned. “Yes, besides.”

“A bit embarrassed, to be frank.” Arthur sat up and leaned against the bed post. He tried to bury the thoughts of the man who had… he didn’t even know what to properly call it. Abused? Rape? It made him feel nauseous and he tried to bury it. He cleared his throat. “I’m not too sure what that was last night. But I know who had me. The O’Driscolls.”

“They’re one of the old gangs that causes chaos every now and then,” Charlotte said, frowning. “Why’d they have you?”

“Dunno. But I was bait for something, someone. The Pinkertons had a deal with them.”

“We can check the papers, see if there’s been any gang activity?” 

“Yes, lets.” Arthur reached out and grabbed her hand. “On the other side, how are you this morning, Charlotte? I… enjoyed last night.”

Charlotte leaned in and kissed him lightly on the lips. “So did I. I don’t regret it, not one bit. This is the life I’ve been given and I’m going to take it head on.”

Arthur reached over and ran a finger down her shoulder. “I like that philosophy. Let’s take a bath, shall we?”

* * *

They had their wagon full of a new trunk of clothing for the both of them, food rations, new guns, four chickens, two baby goats, and two small pigs, plus enough feed to last the animals a few months. Arthur had bought a new pistol and gun belt, which he wore proudly around his hips. He also bought a few papers to read along the way to see if he could find anything about the recent gangs.

Charlotte had taken the time to buy fresh medicinal herbs, wrappings, and seeds for her future garden. They had also stopped by a bookstore to buy a couple new books for their well read bookshelf, as well as a couple journals and charcoal for Arthur to draw with. Their wagon was full and covered in a blanket, less anyone get an idea about robbing them.

Their journey home was slow, but Arthur didn’t mind it. They sat together on the wagon holding hands. They made conversation along the way, talking of the future, Charlotte’s past, her city life. She had been quite popular among her social class, yet she had hated it and gotten out of it the moment Cal felt the same way. 

“We were married within months of meeting each other,” Charlotte reminisced. “A bit foolish, I admit. And we tried the city life, really we did. For a couple years. But it didn’t work out. We didn’t want our children to grow up like we did. Spoiled and oblivious. Tell you one thing. Living by yourselves in the wilderness will set you straight fast.”

“That I can agree with,” Arthur said. “You turned out alright, despite your obliviousness when I first met you. And now you wouldn’t even need me around.”

“But I want you around.” Charlotte took his hand and kissed his cheek. “Things are turning out for the better, just you wait.”

During their travels, Arthur read the newspapers in search for anything of the O’Driscolls. There was nothing of them, but everything about the van der Linde gang. His heart beat fast the further he read. “Listen to this, Charlotte. ‘The van Der Linde gang is scattered. The Pinkertons managed to bait them and pull them out of hiding. In current captivity, the notorious gang leader Dutch van der Linde is in captivity, along with Hosea Matthews, Bill Williamson, Abigail Roberts, and Susan Grimshaw. Currently missing is John Martson, Javier Escuella, Sean MacGuire, and Lenny Summers, among others who have not been identified. Among the deceased is the one Arthur Morgan…”

Charlotte pulled the wagon over to the side of the road and turned to him. Her face was pale. “You were a part of a gang?”

“I don’t remember. Maybe I was,” Arthur sighed and folded the newspaper. He hesitantly grabbed Charlotte’s hand. “We knew going into this we didn’t know who I was. Apparently, Arthur Morgan is dead. Maybe this is for the better.”

“Do you remember anything?” There was no venom in her voice, no sense of distrust. Arthur took that as reassuring. 

“No, I don’t. I do feel as if these people are important to me, but I still… I can’t remember. Maybe it’s better that I don’t. Maybe it’s time to bury Arthur Morgan. The papers already did.”

Charlotte squeezed his hand lightly. “Maybe it’s for the best. We don’t want the law coming after you. I can’t offer you the name Balfour, but…”

“I understand.” Arthur kissed her on the forehead. “I don’t want to replace Cal. He meant a lot to you. No, I’m thinking Arthur Adler. That seems right.”

“Arthur Adler it is, then. Let’s keep going.”

* * *

Fall slowly fell into place, the trees turning red and golden, the leaves falling in waves to the ground. A winter chill was just around the corner, waiting to bring an onslaught of snow Arthur had been preparing for. A simple barn for the horses, pigs, and goats. Plenty of food for the livestock set aside for the winter. A stack of firewood to last them well into the winter. 

Arthur belted the saddle onto Roy, the morning sun breaking through the windows, casting a golden haze. He planned to make one last run into Annesburg to grab some more random supplies. Once Roy was saddled, he led him out to the front of the house and hitched him on the nearby post. Charlotte was inside fixing their breakfast and he wasn’t looking forward from being away from her.

Charlotte beamed at him as she walked around the cabin, a steaming dish of eggs and potatoes in her hands. She set it on the table and dusted off her hands. “A big meal to set you off, Mr. Adler.”

“Why, Mrs. Balfour. You didn’t have to go through all this,” Arthur smiled back. He leaned over and kissed her on the mouth, the lingering scent of coffee on her lips. “The morning chores are done. What are you going to do while I’m gone?”

“Oh… just some knitting, I suppose. Or reading. Whatever I fancy. You still have the list I gave you?”

“Yes. I’m sure Roy and I won’t mind being packmule.”

“Uhhu. Eat up. You’ll need it.” 

Thirty minutes later he kissed Charlotte goodbye and was on his way to Annesburg. He planned to return home the next day, but he felt slightly off about leaving Charlotte behind. They’ve done well together the past few months, practically living as husband and wife. They’ve survived… but Arthur felt like he was missing something.

He had put the knowledge of the van der Linde gang behind, not wanting to endanger him or Charlotte. But he couldn’t help himself and buy a newspaper every time he could to read the latest news on the gang. It was always the same: the van der Linde gang leaders were behind bars until they could capture a few more of the gang. It sounded like the Pinkertons wanted a mass hanging to be done with the gang for good and to make a show of it.

Which meant Arthur’s old gang still existed out there. Someone who could recognize him. It scared him, but also intrigued him. The nightmares of his capture with the O’Driscolls still haunted his dreams at night, the questions unanswered of how he escaped - did he do it himself? Did someone help him?

It was hard to say. 

By the later part of the day Arthur checked out a small hotel room in Annesburg and stopped by the general store. It was a simple supply run, stocking up on dry goods and some fabric for Charlotte. There wasn’t much to Annesburg, as it was a simple mining town and the men were overworked and underpaid, as Charlotte had put it. 

The sky was turning grey as he wandered into the gunstore, an onslaught of rain threatening to downpour. The gunsmith - also the person who rented Arthur the room - set out a small box filled with Arthur’s order. 

“Thank you kindly,” Arthur said and placed some bills on the counter. The box was filled with an assortment of bullets, enough to set aside in case one would need it at home. 

A bell chimed, the front door opening, bringing in a cold draft. Arthur tipped his hat at the clerk and barely acknowledged the newcomers, thinking nothing of it. 

“Arthur,” the clerk called out. “Say hello to the Mrs. Balfour for me and the Mrs.”

“Arthur?” The two newcomers said and looked up and made eye contact with Arthur. A blond haired woman with a scar on her brow, accompanied by a scarred, dark haired man. They were dressed for travel, their outer clothing covered in grime from the road. The woman was pale, as if stricken, and the scarred man was fuming red. 

Arthur tipped his hat to them. “How do you do,” Arthur said, his heart beating fast. He opened the door and headed to his room, his fingers gripping his cane tightly. They knew him. It was completely obvious. He wasn’t surprised when he heard the two of them follow him. 

“Arthur!” The man called out, his voice raspy. “Stop!” The man quickened his pace and tugged on his arm, forcing Arthur to face him.

“I’m sorry, I… do I know you?” Arthur said, his eyes flicking between the two of them. The woman still looked pale. He glanced at her hat and time seemed to stop as a memory flashed —

_ He was standing on a dusty street, the red sun setting. People murmured all around him, their eyes upon the noose now swinging with the body of his father. They had gathered to see a criminal hang, only now to gossip about the sins he had committed. The sins were long, cruel, ones Arthur had no sympathy for. _

_ He had no sympathy for his father. He had been a rotten man who couldn’t control his anger, one who had used his fists against Arthur’s mother, against his son. There was never a time he was a father to Arthur.  _

_ Yet, as Arthur watched his father swing, he felt numb. All that he knew was suddenly dead, leaving behind his eleven year old son in a place where nobody wanted him. They had no official home for him to return to, no money, no clothing except what Arthur was wearing. His stomach was empty, but he didn’t have an appetite. _

_ No. As he kept watching his father hang, he knew he wouldn’t have an appetite for a very long time.  _

_ After his father had drawn his last breath, his eyes bulging and his tongue hanging, Arthur felt the angry tears well up. People chattered all around him, not caring they had seen a man die. All they saw was a criminal.  _

_ The only possession of his father was the hat he had been wearing then he had gotten arrested. Arthur had been there, tried to stop them arresting his father. It hadn’t mattered. He had picked up the hat, gathered a few precious belongings, and followed them to the jail house.  _

_ As he looked into his father’s faded, protruding eyes, he pulled on his father’s hat. Arthur vowed he wouldn’t have the same fate. He wouldn’t swing from the noose.  _

—

Arthur took a step back from the two, the rush of his father’s death fresh in his memory. His knee seemed to give out then and he blearily sat down on the bench outside of the hotel. The two strangers were talking to him, the words blurring together in a wave. He didn’t comprehend what they were saying until a minute later, as the comprehension washed over him.

“That’s my father’s hat,” he said bleakly. The woman had sat next to him and was rubbing his back. 

“You can have it back,” she said and pulled it off.

Arthur accepted it, staring at the old tears in the weathered fabric. “This was my father’s hat,” he said again. He ran a finger against the brim. “I got it when I was eleven, when my father was arrested and hung. I made a vow that day. I wouldn’t die a criminal, like him.”

“And you didn’t die. You’re alive!” The smaller man said. He had been pacing, then he paused. “You have a room?” 

Arthur nodded and picked up his box and cane. He still hadn’t wanted to look them in the eyes, not wanting a memory to pop up as harshly as it had. He unlocked his door and set the bullets and his cane on the desk, then took a seat in the one, wobbly chair in the room. 

The two strangers stood awkwardly in the room, glancing about. 

“You been living here the whole time?” The man asked.

“Who are you?” Arthur bit out.

“Who are- Arthur, this isn’t time for games,” the man growled. “Abigail and the others been arrested, and we could really use your help-“

“John,” the woman warned, cutting him off. “He doesn’t know.”

John glared back at her. “How does he not know us? This is Arthur Morgan, Dutch’s right hand man! He’s -“

“So it’s true?” Arthur cut in. “I was a part of the van der Linde gang?”

“I’ll humor you. Yes, you were,” John responded. “I’m John Martson, this is Sadie Adler. I’ve been with the gang almost as long as you - and Sadie joined us just this past year. What happened to you, Arthur? You went missing, and then everything went to hell.”

Arthur finally met their gazes. John’s seething gaze, Sadie’s sympathetic eyes. Her last name was Adler. That’s where he got the name from. There was something else in her gaze, something that scared him to his very core. He had messed up, betrayed her somehow, and he didn’t want to know how. 

“I was captured by the O’Driscoll’s,” he started. He cleared his throat and leaned back. “And I was beaten, tortured. Badly.” He dug into his satchel and pulled out a packet of cigarettes. He hadn’t taken up the habit of smoking all too often, but this situation called for one. He lit it and took a long inhale. Just thinking of the experience caused his heart to race. 

“I won’t go into the details,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Please, sit.” John sat on the bed, but Sadie stayed standing, her arms crossed. Arthur continued, “I remember the incident vividly. But I don’t… I don’t know who I am. I know my name, because I had a journal. But it didn’t offer much, as it was burnt and covered in - likely, my own blood.

“So I’ll be frank. I don’t know you, who you are. I seen the papers. I know I’m supposed to be dead. I been goin’ by the name Arthur Adler… because I don’t want to associate with a criminal like Arthur Morgan.”

Sadie walked to the window and let out a long sigh. “So… how’d you escape?” She asked. 

“I don’t remember. I have a feelin’ I was able to make it to my horse. I was… in a bad way. Down for weeks. A woman rescued me, and I been livin’ with her ever since.”

“Does she know who you are?” There it was again, a sadness in Sadie’s voice. 

Arthur took a long drag. “Yes, she does. And I would like her not to get involved with whatever it is you two do. I’m goin’ to ask you both kindly to leave. I don’t want this.”

“Arthur - Dutch was arrested. So was Hosea. The men who took us in, basically raised us,” John pressured, his voice pained. “My wife, Abigail - who you loved like a sister, by the way - was caught as well. She’s the mother to my son. Jack is strugglin’ without her.”

It’s true. Arthur thought of Abigail and a warm feeling crept over him. He did know of the names, the feelings attached to them. Dutch, an aloof father like figure. Hosea, a warm and dependable, also father like figure. Abigail - someone who brought joy into his life, a strong and lovely woman who cared very much for John and Jack. 

John Martson - his brother. His younger, obtrusive brother. His face was scarred the past winter by wolves and was in a pretty bad shape. Despite Arthur holding a grudge against John for leaving Abigail for nearly a year, Arthur had been so relieved to see him alive. 

Sadie Adler. Newer, angry woman brought into the gang because the O’Driscolls had killed her husband and kept her captive. She was headstrong, quick with a gun, and beautiful -

Arthur doubled over as the memories rushed over him, his heart beating fast. There had been something between him and Sadie, something he had somehow forgotten. They had been together the night before he had been captured, they had given themselves to each other, declared their interest. 

Someone else had entered the room and suddenly Arthur felt a fist against his face. He fell backwards against the chair and held up his hands as John pulled the intruder away from him. 

“Micah!” John was roaring. “Leave him alone!”

Sadie had her gun drawn and was pointing it at the blond haired man - Micah. 

Ah yes. Arthur remembered him. A man with a gut and a nasty attitude who was foolish and careless. Arthur sat up and wiped his hand against his nose, which was now dripping with blood. He pulled out a kerchief and held it against the wound, leveling a glare at the man. He didn’t like anything about Micah. That much was clear. The hate he felt was as clear as day.

“You’re supposed to be dead!” Micah shouted. “You ruined everything, you piece of-“

“That’s enough!” Sadie screamed. “Micah, get out of here. I’ll explain later.”

Micah shrugged out of John’s grasp and pointed a finger at Arthur. “You’re a dead man for betrayin’ us, cowpoke. A dead man!” He stomped out and slammed the door closed.

“I want you two to leave,” Arthur said and spat out a mix of blood and saliva. “I don’t want anythin’ to do-“

“You’re in this whether you want to be or not,” John frowned. “Micah will see to that. So I suggest you watch your back, because to him, it looks like you betrayed us to the Pinkertons and the O’Driscolls, and got away with it, livin’ a clean free life.”

“I didn’t,” Arthur affirmed. 

“How can I believe you?” Doubt flickered in John’s eyes. “We coulda used you. The Arthur I knew wouldn’t just ignore us, unless you were bribed. Even then, it’s hard to imagine.”

Arthur was breathing heavily. He stood and started unbuttoning his shirt. He slowly pulled it off and pointed to the red scar on his shoulder. “This is where I was shot,” he began. He pointed to the large brand on his chest where he had been burned. “This is where they branded me after crippling my leg. I couldn’t walk for at least a month or two. I still have to walk with a cane when my knee starts giving out. I’m missing a tooth, where they smacked me senseless with their kicks. I can’t begin to describe the rest of the horror they put me through.” Arthur’s tone turned bitter and dry. He pulled his shirt back on and sat back down, staring harshly at the two of them.

John took a hesitant step forward. “Jesus, Arthur-“

“So you forgive me when I say I don’t wanna help, rejoin the gang. I just… can’t. I can’t go through with that again. I lost my memory for a reason, and I… I don’t want to regain it again.”

“Let’s go, John,” Sadie said lightly. She flicked her blond braid over her shoulder. “We’re supposed to meet up with Charles.”

“But you, Sadie, out of all people, you deserve more-“ John protested.

“It’s obvious it doesn’t matter. He moved on. I moved on. Let’s go.” Sadie stormed out of the room, her face red. 

John seemed torn. He stopped before he left the room and turned back to Arthur. “You loved each other, Arthur. You were great together. She deserves closure, if you’re not goin’ with us. She deserves that much.” He shut the door lightly, leaving Arthur with a thousand thoughts.

Arthur wandered over to his bed and collapsed, the memories flooding in no matter how hard he tried to stop them.

* * *

He left Annesburg early the next morning, knowing he was not returning to Charlotte as Arthur Adler, but as Arthur Morgan. Everything was clear as day, every thought and emotion he had ever felt was apparent. He loved Dutch and Hosea, even though Dutch had been headed down a path Arthur hadn’t agreed with. 

He couldn’t let them die, no matter how hard he wanted the perfect life he had with Charlotte. The gang had been his family, his life, his every means for living. He had protected them from the O’Driscolls, or had at least tried to. He had been bait, and the van der Linde gang had acted on it. 

There was a loathing in him for the Pinkertons and the O’Driscolls, even more so that his gang was scattered and several captive. He wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing they were suffering while he was not. 

He didn’t want to leave Charlotte, but he didn’t know if she would want him after she realized what he was planning on doing. Even being with her had been betraying the code he had set for himself. He hadn’t been with anyone since Eliza; wouldn’t, until he was out of the van der Linde gang. 

Yet he had chosen Sadie, widow turned outlaw. He had seen a future with her, a life where they escaped together. They had made love together, both willing to accept who they were. And then he got captured, lost his memory, and chosen another woman. 

He had betrayed Sadie. Betrayed his gang. And once again, betraying Charlotte, who deserved a real husband, not an outlaw. Arthur had learned long ago he could only serve one person at a time. After Eliza, it had been Dutch, and only Dutch.

And now, he would repay Dutch one last time. He would help John rescue everyone, one last time. Then Arthur was done. He didn’t know what the future held for him, but both Charlotte and Sadie deserved better than him. Arthur wouldn’t be able to forgive himself from betraying the both of them.

When he passed the waterfall and up the ridge to the house he shared with Charlotte, he blinked back unbidden tears once he saw the life he was giving up. It was a dream, and only a dream.

Charlotte heard him approach and left the cabin, dressed in a simple grey shift with a shawl over her shoulders. Her hair was bound in a bun on her head, and she was all smiles once she saw him approach. He attempted to return it, but his smile quickly faded.

She kissed him on the cheek and helped him unload the bags from Roy. “I hope all this wasn’t too much for Roy,” she said. She walked into the house and set the bags on the table. Arthur followed suit and waited anxiously by the door. “I’m still in the process of making dinner-“

“Charlotte,” Arthur began. He walked over to her and grabbed her hand. He led her to the couch. “Let’s sit for a second.”

“Okay,” she responded hesitantly. She sat down next to him, her hand stiff in his. 

He cleared his throat and started off slowly, “I remembered everythin’, Charlotte. My life, my childhood. My mother, Beatrice. My father, Lyle. My mother died when I was young, and my father was a criminal and hung when I was eleven. I was taken in by the gang leader Dutch van der Linde, and he taught me to right, to read. I was his right hand man. We robbed together, stole together. We conned people, all for the sake of bein’ better than everyone else because we didn’t follow the rules.”

Charlotte paled the tiniest bit. “We knew that, that you were an outlaw. But it didn’t matter.”

“And it didn’t, not when I didn’t know who they were. But I do now. My gang was my family. I was on a mission to parley with the O’Driscolls, and instead, they captured me. I was bait for the Pinkertons, and I failed my family, my gang. They were scattered once they tried to rescue me, and now they’re suffering because of me.”

“But you can’t control what happened to you-“

“No, but I continued to ignore the memories. I didn’t want them to return. I wanted a life here with you, where I could ignore everythin’. But now I can’t.” Arthur brought up Charlotte’s hand and kissed it lightly. “And I can’t stay here with you. I don’t want to bring you into this mess. I plan to return to my gang, rescue them, and then I’m out.”

Tears welled up in her eyes. “And then you’ll come back?”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“I betrayed someone, Charlotte. I betrayed her, by not rememberin’ who she was… what she meant to me.”

Charlotte pulled her hand from Arthur’s grasp. “I… I see,” she gasped, looking away. “So you’re going to return to her?”

“I can’t let myself do that.” Arthur stood up. He didn’t want to go, but he couldn’t keep leading Charlotte on. He loved her, he really did. She was kind, patient, hard working. “You deserve better than an outlaw, Charlotte. I lost a woman and a son long ago because of this life, when I was young and foolish. I don’t want to see it happen again.”

Charlotte let out a sob. “You don’t have to do this-“

Arthur leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “I’m sorry, Charlotte. I loved you.” He left to gather his belongings from his room, moving quickly. He packed the bloodied journal and grabbed the rest of his clothing and his guns. It all went by in a haze and when he went back into the living room, Charlotte refused to meet his gaze. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and left the cabin. He packed away everything on Roy and grabbed his father’s hat from his pack. Feeling slightly angry, he switched it out with his current one, and donned his father’s memory. 

He was the same Arthur Morgan once more. One stupid, ugly grunt with too much loyalty to Dutch.


	2. Part Two: Loyalty

Arthur headed fast through the Roanoke Ridge, the cold rain hitting his face in waves. He didn’t care. The faster he was away from Charlotte, the safer she would be. He would not be one to put her at risk, no matter how hard he wanted to stay with her and ignore his duties. The look of loss and despair on her face when she left, of betrayal, was enough to reassure him he would never be forgiven.

He didn’t know if Sadie could ever forgive him, either. In a world where he could forget her, after the time they spent together… Arthur would never be able to forgive himself. There was a step he would not cross, not like his father had done to his mother many times. Even if Arthur hadn’t remembered, he had dallied with someone other than Sadie. There was no one to blame but himself.

By the time he reached Annesburg, the sky was dark and grey, the rain still coming down in sheets. Thunder rumbled in the distance as he hitched Roy and headed into the hotel rooms. He had kept a room booked until the next day, with the intent he would return. 

He shrugged off his coat and shook the rain off before opening his door. He pushed it open with a long sigh and found Sadie Adler sitting by the windowsill, the fire cackling at the hearth. She was pale, her hair let down, a cup of tea in her hands. She didn’t smile at him as he closed the door behind him. 

“Sadie,” he said wearily. He hung up his jacket on the nearby hook, along with his hat. He left his pack near the door, and went to sit on the bed across from her. “I’m here for you and John, whenever you need me.”

“You weren’t here the past six months,” Sadie lightly accused. She reached over and grabbed a cigarette from the coffee table. She lit it with stern movements and took a long drag. “And I can’t blame you. You been through hell.”

Arthur grabbed a cigarette as well and slowly lit it. “I had. But now I’m back.”

“How is it gonna be, the two of us?” she inquired. “Do you remember it all?”

“I do, and I ain’t gonna bury the truth. I can’t continue this with you, Sadie. The woman who rescued me… she… she’d lost her husband when she found me. She took care of me, helped me recuperate.”

Sadie scoffed loudly and looked away.

“And after I healed… we became somethin’ more. And now that I remember everythin’... I couldn’t continue it, knowin’ it betrayed you.”

“So…” Sadie pushed her cigarette against the metal bowl and snuffed it out. “You fell in love with another widow, like me. I can’t… I ain’t upset, Arthur. I ain’t. I know how the O’Driscolls were, how they treated me. They weren’t kind. If I could’ve forgotten it all… I would have. It just… hurts, you know? That you forgot me, moved on and replaced me with another widow.”

She stood up and straightened her jacket. “It seems to me you had finally gotten what you wanted, Arthur. To get out. Yet you’ve come back. Why?”

Arthur stood and grabbed her hands in his. He felt the hesitation in her hands and met her gaze with his. “Because I remembered everythin’. What we been through, what the gang has been through. I had people who counted on me, Sadie. And I failed them, failed you. But I can’t in good conscious continue this between us. I’d be livin’ a lie.”

Sadie took a step back and pulled her hands away. “It was a mistake,” she whispered. “I betrayed my Jakie, I moved on too fast. This is too much, Arthur.” She made her way to the door and opened it. “We stayin’ at Beaver Hollow, up in the Roanoke Ridge. Murfree territory. If you want to help, come tomorrow. We’ll discuss our plans then for rescuin’ Abigail and the others.” She slipped out of the room and slammed the door shut.

Thunder echoed in the distance and bright light lit the room as lightning flashed. Arthur grabbed his whiskey and poured himself a long drink, then sat in the chair Sadie had vacated. 

A log fell in the fireplace, causing a stir of sparks. Arthur found himself sipping his whiskey and staring in the orange flames, cursing himself for being a stupid fool. 

_Awhile Ago_

“Mrs. Adler!” Miss Grimshaw called out a shrill voice. “Do get back here!” 

“I ain’t gonna stick around here and do nothin’ but housework!” Sadie spat back. She finished belting the saddle and turned back to face the older woman. “I appreciate you takin’ me in, Miss Grimshaw, but I can’t stay here. Not when there are O’Driscolls about.”

Miss Grimshaw waved her arms, her face red with frustration. “You can’t take them all out by yourself!” 

“I can! Just you wait.” Sadie jumped on the horse and was off into the forest of Horseshoe Overlook.

“Mr. Morgan!” Miss Grimshaw called out. 

Arthur waved from his spot near the campfire, a bowl of soup in his hands. He had watched with interest as Sadie had overheard the men talking about an O’Driscoll camp nearby, saw her rush to her tent, only to run out dressed in a men’s pants and baggy, button up shirt too big for her. She tied her hair back in a loose bun and grabbed one of the guns meant for guarding the camp. 

She was an angry one, he had to give her that. All bark and plenty of bite. He had only talked to her here and there, letting her readjust to her new life with an outlaw gang. From what he had heard from Abigail, the Mrs. Adler was still tormented over what had happened to her. Arthur couldn’t blame her. It was a nasty situation - Sadie had lost absolutely everything.

“Mr. Morgan,” Miss Grimshaw huffed and put her hands on her hips. “Would you go after her, please? She’s goin’ to get herself killed!” 

Somehow, Arthur knew that’s what she was going to request. With a sigh, he sipped the last of his soup and stood up. 

Micah walked by, a beer bottle in his hand. He eyed the two of them warily. “I can go after her, Miss Grimshaw.”

“I asked Mr. Morgan, not you,” Miss Grimshaw sneered. “She’s headed north, past Valentine. I’ll take this.” She grabbed the soup bowl from Arthur and waved him towards the horses. “And you get on.”

Arthur hadn’t had anything planned for that day besides helping with the chores and going hunting. He supposed killing some O’Driscolls wouldn’t be so bad, especially if they left some loot behind. He stopped by his tent and grabbed his satchel and pack, then went to saddle up Roy. 

The spring air was warm as he traveled, a welcome change from the dreary, stone cold weather they had had in the mountains. Their stay in Horseshoe Overlook had been particularly uneventful, except the recent run in with Leviticus Cornwall. After that incident, they had kept their heads low for another few weeks, not wanting to draw any attention to themselves. 

He pushed Roy a little bit more than usual, wanting to catch up with Sadie before she actually met the O’Driscolls. He didn’t want her death on his conscious, though he wouldn’t be surprised if she managed to defeat the O’Driscolls all on her own. She seemed to know her way around a gun. Would have had to, living as remotely as she had. 

As he rounded a bend, he saw Sadie’s horse Bob up ahead and called out, “Sadie, hold up!”

“I ain’t gonna stop!” Sadie yelled back, peering over her shoulder at him. 

Arthur caught up to her. “You don’t have to. I’m just taggin’ along for the ride.”

“I don’t need backup.”

“And I don’t doubt it. But burstin’ into an O’Driscoll camp - you never know how many there may be. So I’m here, just in case. You keep ridin’ along and I’ll keep up.”

Sadie frowned at him, the tension loosening on her freckled face. “Fine. But we gonna do this my way.”

“Whatever you want.”

They continued on, slowing the horses down to a brisk trot. There wasn’t much said between them as they continued on, the both of them mulling in the silence. The land around them was heavily forested area mixed with farmland, and they passed a few farmers along the way to their destination. If one were to settle, Arthur guessed it would be a nice area to live. Plenty of wild animals to hunt - they passed several herds of deer along the way - and plenty of land for everyone to share. 

Arthur knew their stay in the area wouldn’t be too much longer. Just the other day, the Pinkertons had encountered him and Jack while they were fishing and threatened them. The law was getting closer to the gang and time was running out. They’d have to move on again, and again, and frankly, Arthur was getting rather tired of it all. Dutch had a plan, he’d figure it out.

As the day crept on, Arthur made them stop once so he could hunt some food for them. He kept his varmint rifle at the ready and shot a young turkey, plenty of food for them for the night. Once he attached it to the saddle, they continued on.

Night fell by the time they neared their destination. They had traveled farther than Arthur thought they would. “Mrs. Adler, how about we stop here for the night? That way we’re ready for them in the mornin’?”

Sadie had her map out and was reading it by lantern. “We ain’t too far now.”

“We haven’t eaten, it’s dark, and frankly, my horse and me could turn in. We’ll be up and at them at first light. Does that work?” Arthur suggested. At Sadie’s hesitation, he led them off the main path and into a well hidden area, hidden off by a grove of trees. He went to work of hitching his horse and walking around to find wood for firewood. 

Without asking, Sadie grabbed the turkey and began plucking it to prep it for their dinner. They were silent as they worked, at a loss of what to really say to one another. It was only when the turkey was roasting on the fire and they were sitting on their rolls nearby did Arthur start talking to break the silence. 

“What do you think of Pearson’s stew?” he asked Sadie.

She shrugged. “I ain’t keen on it. I’ve had better.”

“I always carry some fresh herbs with me, if you want some,” Arthur said and grabbed his pack. He pulled out a mix of random herbs. “I always sneak some into my stew when he’s not lookin’.” 

“You have quite the assortment.” Sadie grabbed a mint leaf and sniffed it. She had taken her hair out of her bun, framing her face in a golden halo of hair. “Do you enjoy gatherin’ all the herbs? I don’t see any of the other men doin’ the same thing.”

“Naw. Miss Grimshaw always requests them here and there, and since I’m out so much, I finally got done eating bland meat all the time. I got some salt, too.”

Sadie handed him the mint back. “Hmm. I also see you drawin’ every now and then. You keep a journal?”

Arthur’s cheeks reddened by a smidge. “I do. It’s how I keep track of all my thoughts, things I’ve seen. I used to have more, but… I lost them when we left Blackwater.”

“No shame in keepin’ a journal. I used to, too… back at home.” Sadie’s voice went dry. “My Jakie, he… he would always try to read it. I’d have to chase him off. Of course he never would without my permission, but… it’s a memory I treasure.” 

“Do you want to keep another?”

“Nothin’s worth writing about, right now.” Sadie pulled her blanket tighter around her. The night had brought a crisp chilled wind which reminded them it was only early spring. “I’ll be frank, Mr. Morgan. I don’t see much for myself, in the future. I ain’t got nothing. No family, belongings. Even my clothes are borrowed.”

Arthur mused her words over. “I don’t blame you, Mrs. Adler. Miss Grimshaw let me in on some of the things, but I won’t invade your privacy. If you want, any loot we get is yours. We’ll use it to stop by a town and get you some fresh supplies. Yours, and only yours.”

Sadie sniffed and nodded her head. “That’s very kind.”

“You comfortable with that rifle there?”

“Yes. Enough so that I can take care of myself. Just treat me like some of the other men, Mr. Morgan.”

Arthur chuckled and leaned over to rotate the turkey. The warmth of the fire was pleasing and the smell of the turkey made his stomach growl. “Well, you ain’t nearly as stinky as them, so you quite the improvement.”

The hint of a smile appeared on Sadie’s lips. “Thank you for taggin’ along with me.”

“Of course, Mrs. Adler.”

The sky was clear as they finished their dinner and laid down on their rolls. Arthur stared up to the stars, hidden behind the tree branches. It was a quiet night, only an owl keeping them company in the distance. Arthur felt himself drifting off, letting his mind roam, the heat of the fire warming him to his core.

He was woken up to a branch snapping. He shot up on the ground and was on his feet, his fingers just hanging above his pistol. Several hours had passed since he had fallen asleep and the crescent moon was lower amongst the hills. The fire had died down to coals and Sadie was missing from her bed roll. 

Someone knew they were there. 

“Well!” A voice called out. “If it isn’t the cowboy Arthur Morgan!” 

Arthur didn’t recognize the voice. “Do I know you?” he yelled back. 

“I seen you, walkin’ around with the van der Linde gang, like you own the place.” A dark haired man stepped into view, his pistol drawn and at his side. He was poorly built man who had a gut and a nasty, toothy smile. “I’d suggest you don’t move, sir. You’re surrounded.”

Arthur took in the dirty dark cloak and scarred face. “You an O’Driscoll?” 

“I could be. Colm’s gonna be happy we captured you, that’s for sure,” the man grinned. “Lower your weapon.” Two more men stepped out from the bushes, their guns raised. 

There wasn’t much of a choice, not when four guns were focused on him. Wherever Sadie had wandered off to, he hoped the O’Driscolls didn’t know she was there. Arthur lowered his pistol and grabbed his rifle from his shoulder. He set it slowly by his pistol and took a few steps back, raising his arms. 

“We can talk about this,” Arthur drawled, eyeing the toothy man. “We ain’t gotta do it this way.”

The toothy O’Driscoll motioned to his men, who stepped forward and grabbed Arthur’s arms. He resisted and tried to pull his arms from their grasp as the toothy O’Driscoll approached him. Arthur flinched as the man slowly traced the pistols’ cold metal against his throat and ran it along the grizzle of his jaw. The man’s eyes lowered and he brought the pistol down to Arthur’s shirt collar, pushing it aside to reveal more of his chest.

Arthur jerked sideways, not all keen on how the man was devouring him with his eyes. “You sick freak,” Arthur huffed, a coil of sudden fear reeling through him. “No wonder Colm don’t keep you around.”

“Colm don’t have to know,” the Toothy man said. He holstered his pistol and reached down to grab Arthur’s belt. “Hold him tight,” he demanded. “He’ll put up a fight.”

Arthur pushed all his weight backwards and landed a kick in the man’s gut, kicking him backwards. The man holding his right arm gurgled and splattered into an explosion of blood, a bullet blowing out the left side of his face. Soon the man on Arthur’s left followed, his screams dying as he fell to the ground. Arthur darted for his pistol on the ground and swerved to take a few shots at the toothy O’Driscoll, who had made his way into the forest. 

Every shot missed. Not a few seconds later, the O’Driscoll was galloping away and lost in the forest. Arthur angrily moved around the campsite, making sure everything was still there. 

“Arthur!” Sadie hissed, walking into the camp, her rifle in her hands. “You doin’ okay?”

“Oh, I’m just fine.” Arthur grabbed a jacket and shrugged it on with angry movements, his mood sour. “Let’s follow that O’Driscoll.” He spent a few minutes gathering his belongings and tying them to Roy, hearing Sadie do the same. 

They were off down the path of the O’Driscoll, the horses galloping as fast as they could. It was a bad night for tracking. Clouds covered the sky, hiding the stars and moon, and the lantern only provided so much light. After twenty minutes of possibly following the wrong trail, Arthur pulled his horse to a stop.

“We’ll make camp here for the night, damn it,” Arthur growled. “We ain’t gonna catch up at this rate. We’ll leave first light.”

* * *

The next day proved fruitless. Whoever that O’Driscoll had been was proving difficult to find, as was any other O’Driscolls. The two of them returned to Valentine in dour moods and stopped at the bar to grab a bite and a drink. 

Sadie drowned her shot of whiskey and motioned for the bartender to pour another. “This ain’t what I wanted with my life, Arthur.”

“... I don’t wanna be here either. Constantly on the run, nearly starvin’ in the mountains…” Arthur frowned into the whiskey. “It’s up to you if you wanna continue livin’ with us, Mrs. Adler. We ain’t headed down a pleasant road and luck has not been on our side. It’s gonna be rough.”

“It’s the only road I can take. We’ll be fightin’ the O’Driscolls along the way, so I’ll stay. That scum deserves to die for what they did to Jakie and me, and nearly you.”

Arthur’s mood darkened at the thought of the toothy man, only to be interrupted by Hosea patting his shoulder. “Thought I recognized your horses. How’d the O’Driscolls go?” the older man asked and took a seat next to Arthur. He was dressed simply and looked more tired than usual. Arthur had started to notice more wrinkles on the man’s face, caused by the recent stress and lack of sleep.

“We got two of ‘em,” Sadie murmured into her whiskey. “Plenty more out there.”

Hosea leaned back in his chair. “I was hoping to run into you two, to be honest. I have a plan, and it’s kind of a long one. But it involves a bit of acting.”

Arthur scoffed. “You know words ain’t my strong suit, Hosea. Trelawney would be better for this sort of thing.”

“True, but he doesn’t have your flair. Come, let’s take a walk. We’ll discuss it outside.” 

The three of them finished their drinks and made their way out. People moved to and fro the wet streets of Valentine despite a sprinkling of rain. Hosea led them to the side of the bar and to the back where there was less foot traffic. They stopped in the alleyway.

“You would have to leave within the hour,” Hosea murmured. He pulled out a folded piece of paper. “Word is, there’s some treasure hunting happening nearby. A man was passing out these flyers, claiming great reward if one brings back what this man is seeking. 1000 cash, Arthur.”

Arthur took the paper and gave it a quick glance. “This man is lookin’ for a… a lost diamond necklace?”

“Probably a family heirloom. He handed out many flyers, Arthur. I want you to be the first one to find it. Take the Mrs. Alder with you.”

Arthur and Sadie shared a quick glance and he shrugged. “Why not. Sure. It’ll take us a few days, at least - and if there’s gonna be more, we may be in for a fight. Why did you say you wanted actin’?”

“You and the Mrs. Adler should pose as a married couple. I received a hint that the family heirloom may already be acquired by another family. Someone with a lot of influence. The Kremers. Apparently big whigs where they’re from. They’re having a party six days from now - and I want you to be on their invited list.” Hosea’s eyes glinted with humor. 

“And how are you goin’ to do that?” Arthur asked, suspicious as he folded the flyer and put it in his satchel.

“John and I will be riding along. The Kremers are church goers. We’ll rob them right after church, you and Sadie save them. Convince them you’re new to town and you’re looking for a place. If you’re lucky, they’ll invite you to their party. You’ll have to dress fancy. Rich. Trelawny has enough time to get you both outfitted. He’s waiting at the Tailor.”

Sadie smirked. “You have this all figured out, Hosea.”

“It’s what he does best. Excuse us for a second while we discuss this, Hosea.” Arthur motioned for Sadie to follow him. Once Hosea was out of hearing range, Arthur cleared his throat. “I don’t wanna intrude, Mrs. Adler. I need to know you’ll be comfortable with this.”

“Playin’ a wife, you mean?”

“Exactly. You’ll be the Mrs. Kilgore. If we’re gonna act like husband and wife, I need you to be comfortable with me. I won’t overstep my bounds, but we’ll have to be convincing.”

Pigs snorted nearby, causing the two of them to break eye contact. Sadie wrinkled her nose at the stench wafting from the pig pen. “I can act just fine, Mr. Morgan. And that’s all this would ever be between us. Acting.”

“Fair enough. Let me know if I overstep my bounds.”

Sadie let out a small laugh. “First off, you can start callin’ me Sadie if we’re gonna have to do this. Secondly, how do you think you would overstep your bounds? You’ve never come across as a ladies man. Do you even know how to act like a husband, Arthur?”

Arthur looked down to the ground and let out a long sigh. “I know enough. All I mean is, is if I have to kiss you, or somethin’. I want your permission. That’s all.”

Sadie considered him for a pause, something painful flickering in her eyes. “You have it. I trust you. Let’s go meet Trelawny, why don’t we? We got a diamond that needs rescuin’.” She turned on her heel and went to meet Hosea.

Arthur followed her with a smile on his lips. “You’ll be an outlaw yet, Sadie. Whether you like it or not.”

* * *

They traveled by wagon to the next state over. They carried a trunk full of clothing, their weapons, bed rolls, and a basket of food. Their goal was to appear as travelers intent on buying new land as a newly wedded couple. Arthur had set aside his father’s hat for a large brimmed leather hat, which matched the dark blue of his cotton shirt. His vest was patterned in black and grey, the grey also the color of his brand new pants. 

Sadie had chosen to dress in a bright blue dress that seemed to make her golden hair stand out even more. She had her hair partly pulled back, the ends curled and pretty. She seemed more relaxed the farther they traveled. 

The first few days of travel was quiet between them. They managed to make small talk of simple nature, but tended to keep to themselves. It was only until Sadie took the reins and Arthur was sketching a new image in his journal did she peered over his shoulder.

“You’re a good artist,” she remarked. “Ever thought of goin’ professional?”

Arthur chuckled and finished off a branch of the tree he was drawing. “That’s a dream long gone, Sadie. I didn’t start drawin’ till I was a young teenager, until Dutch started teachin’ me how to write and I had free access to all the paper I needed.”

“How was it back then? What was Dutch and Hosea like?”

The wagon bumped over a tiny rock, which messed up the straight line Arthur was drawing. He continued on. “They were… different. Younger, obviously. More full of life and adventure. It seemed easy back then. We was simple outlaws who tried to be better than the law. Stole from the wealthy, the criminals.”

“And now?”

“We… we changed. We steal from anyone, now. Anyone who has cash. Don’t matter who they are. Ever since we took on Strauss, that con artist… he puts the innocent into debt. And usually, he calls on me to collect. I’ll be honest, I’m glad Hosea pulled us away for this. Strauss has been wantin’ me to collect the debts and I kept avoidin’ him. Now he’ll get one of the other men to be his muscle.

“Anyways. If you had seen us ten, fifteen years ago…” Arthur mused. “It would have been much different. We weren’t always on the run. It was a better time.”

Sadie spared him a glance then focused on the road. “You and John always butt heads?”

Arthur let out a dry laugh. “Didn’t used to be like this. We were nearly brothers, growin’ up. He was some dusty, streetrat kid Dutch and Hosea suddenly adopted. Then Abigail arrived years later and that fool Marston ran off for a year once Abigail gave birth to Jack. I still don’t know why he did it. Maybe he was scared, but that don’t matter. He wasn’t man enough to take care of her, and I… resented him for that. Still kinda do. He’s still a fool.”

“Abigail loves him,” Sadie pointed out. “Even after all that.”

“Yep. Fool I was tried to marry her after John left, but she wouldn’t have me.”

“That was noble of you.”

Arthur snapped his journal shut and tucked it away in his satchel. “So tell me, Sadie, how you managed to wind up in the mountains. You don’t have to say anythin’, if you don’t want to. I know it’s only been a couple of months.”

Sadie passed the reins to him. “Not much to say. My Jake and I… we wanted to get away. We wanted somethin’ ours. So we did, and we made it work for a good few years. It was tough, difficult… even at times lonely. We only had each other. I look at you and your gang… I can’t imagine it would be very lonely.”

“Not the same, no…” Arthur chewed on his lip in thought. “Even when you’re livin’ with a gang, like family - you’re always missin’ someone. You didn’t have any children?”

Sadie turned to admire the small creek they were passing by, taking her time to respond. “We tried. I miscarried one. It was early in the pregnancy. We stopped tryin’ for a good long while after that. In a way… it was for the best, considerin’ what happened.”

Arthur let out a long sigh. “I know where you’re comin’ from. I ain’t been a married man. Was almost, twice. First woman was too good for me, the second… she was a waitress.” Arthur’s throat turned dry. He hadn’t spoken about it in so long. “We had a child together, but she wouldn’t marry me once she found out who I was. An outlaw. We didn’t even know each other. It was one drunken night together. I wasn’t a proper father. My loyalty to Dutch, Hosea… I kept goin’ back and forth between them, supporting Eliza… and Isaac, best I could. But it wasn’t enough.”

“What happened to them?” Sadie asked softly. 

“They were killed over a measly ten dollars. Found their graves. Isaac was just a young boy then.” 

“I’m so sorry.” 

Arthur cleared his throat and sat up straighter. “I look back and I think what a fool I was, not stayin’ with them. Lettin’ go of Dutch and the gang. I can’t go changin’ the past. It’s the livin’ on, that’s the most difficult.”

“I wanted to die… after Jakie. After they humiliated me. But there’s somethin’ in me that won’t rest till the O’Driscoll’s are dead and gone. We’re both broken souls, Arthur. But despite all this, I am glad I found you and the gang. I have a purpose again.”

“What then, after your purpose is fulfilled?”

Sadie crossed her arms and looked up in thought. “I truly don’t know, Arthur. I haven’t allowed myself a glimpse of a future.”

Arthur slowly nodded his head. “At this rate we’re headed with the gang… neither have I.”

* * *

Early morning Sunday, they met with Hosea and John in a blanket of thick fog right out of the town where the Kremers were attending church. “We’ll follow them for a mile or so, give them time to get alone,” Hosea was saying. “We’ll stop them, then you two rush in and save them. Should be easy, right?”

“What do the Kremers look like again?” Arthur asked. He tugged at the tight necktie around his neck. He hated wearing them. 

Hosea climbed onto his horse. “Mr. Kremer is a very large man. More muscular, one would say. Bald, with a blond handlebar mustache. His wife is a much younger woman, attractive brunette. A trophy wife, really. I saw them when I was scoping out the job. You are in for a real treat, my friends.”

“Let’s try to make this quick,” John reminded them. “We’re far enough away from the camp as it is.”

“Dutch can handle the camp for a couple of weeks without us. He and I haven’t seen quite eye to eye recently. This’ll be good for us,” Hosea said. “You and the Mrs. Kilgore going to be okay?” 

“We’ll be fine,” Sadie responded. “We’ll be returnin’ home tonight with that diamond necklace, just you wait.”

“Hah!” Hosea guffawed. “We’ll see you folks on the battlefield.” He and John left down the path and was enveloped by the thick fog of the forest. 

“Ready?” Arthur asked Sadie. She was dressed in her finest silk, as was Arthur. They were a matching pair, ready to play an important part. 

Their plan started without a hitch. They had caught sight of the Kremer’s wagon on the main road and held back to follow them at a distance. It wasn’t long until Hosea and John came out of the trees, masks covering their faces and their guns blazes. 

From the distance, Arthur couldn’t hear what the two of them were saying, but he could see the Kremer’s hands up. He whipped the reins for the horses to go faster, and soon he and Sadie were approaching, guns drawn. Arthur aimed a shot near the feet of John’s horse, who was more easily spooked. 

The horse jerked back and Arthur dove for cover behind his wagon, Sadie on the opposite side. Their shots missed on purpose, but close enough to be convincing - and Hosea acted brilliantly. He had filled a skin of blood beforehand and in the midst of the chaos, had splattered it all over himself. With a curse, John whisked Hosea’s horse away, retreating to let Arthur and Sadie take the stage.

The Mrs. Kremer was bawling. “Oh!” she was blubbering. “I thought we were done for!”

“Oh do be quiet, Sarah,” Mr. Kremer chided. “We’re alive, thanks to these two folks!” 

“Ohhhhhh!” Sarah cried into her handkerchief.

Arthur and Sadie made their way to the wagon. “This part of town always so dangerous?” Arthur asked him, patting a horse to calm him down. He resisted flinching at the loud wails from the distraught woman. 

“Gracious, no!” Mr. Kremer said. He hopped off his wagon and held out a hand to Arthur. He was every inch of how Hosea had described him. Bald, mustache, and twice the size of Arthur. “Thank you so very much for your help. I am Oscar Kremer, and this is my wife, Sarah. How can I ever repay you?”

Sadie had made her way up the wagon and had an arm around the sobbing woman. “Oh, hush, it’s okay,” she soothed. “The bad men are gone.”

“How do we know they won’t be back?!” Sarah demanded into her shoulder.

“Well…” Arthur looked around. “I am Tacitus Kilgore, and this is my wife, Rebecca Kilgore. We’re new to these parts, and well, we’ll be stayin’ at the hotel in town-”

“Nonsense!” Sarah shot up and glared daggers at her husband. Behind the tears and snot, she had a beauty to her, with a soft face, round lips, and large doe eyes. “You two must stay with us. At least the night, oh Oscar. They saved us. I owe my life to them.”

Mr. Kremer looked displeased. “I’m afraid-”

“Don’t say it!” Sarah cut him off. “We need them, Oscar. Invite them to the party!”

Arthur was highly amused watching the two of them argue. Mr. Kremer clearly didn’t want unknown guests at his house, but the man didn’t want an unhappy wife either. Arthur cleared his throat and waved to Sadie. “My wife, here, she’s tired and in need of some conversation with a lady folk. They seem to be gettin’ along just fine, don’t they? It’s an honor you want us to stay at your place-”

“Please!” Sarah chimed.

Arthur nearly flinched. Her voice was high pitched and childlike. “But I wouldn’t want to intrude.” 

“No intrusion, no.” Mr. Kremer put on a sudden smile. “No, I would welcome you to our home. We live about a mile away, along the lake. As a matter of fact, you will be our guest of honor tonight at our party. You would honor us with your presence, as you have saved our lives.” 

“I appreciate it, Mr. Kremer. We’ll follow you.”

Sarah was beaming at them as Arthur and Sadie climbed into their own wagon. They followed the couple, and they could hear Sarah chatting happily about how the party was going to happen. 

“You played the part well,” Sadie murmured to Arthur. “Hosea warned me you wouldn’t know what to say.”

Arthur gave a huff. “I can play my part, I just don’t like doin’ it. And I mess it up so easily. It’s the part about gettin’ away without them knowin’ it was us who took the necklace. You’ll have to try to find out from the Mrs. Kremer.”

The sunlight broke through the fog, which had started dispersing. Sadie flipped her hair over her shoulders and pursed her lips. “I can do it.” 

As they traveled, they came across a large, vibrant blue lake surrounded by a lush forest. A white mansion could be seen nestled in the trees, a path leading from the building to a long dock on the lake. Arthur had to stop himself from whistling. He hadn’t been in a place so fancy for a very long time. Perhaps when he had been seeing Mary and he had tagged along with her to different parties. He hadn’t liked it then, and he sure wouldn’t like it now. He would have to keep playing the part as best as he could.

The mansion seemed to get larger the closer they neared to it. A butler plus a couple of plainly dressed servants were waiting outside, ready to take care of the wagons. Once Arthur pulled the wagon to a stop, he hopped out and offered a hand to Sadie. 

The instant she was on the ground, Sarah approached her and looped arms with her. “I’ll show you to your rooms,” she gleamed and pulled Sadie inside. Sadie spared Arthur a quick glance, put on a smile, and followed the woman inside.

“Sarah’s… excitable, but she means well,” Mr. Kremer said quietly. “Please join me in the library, Mr. Kilgore.” He left for the mansion and handed off his hat and jacket to the butler, who was standing directly inside.

Arthur followed him, the white stones of the path crunching underneath his feet. Everything was white. The stonework, the roads, the statues. Once he stepped inside, he saw it was much the same. Small bits of color were here and there in paintings or rugs, but yet white seemed to be the favorite color here. Hell, he hoped that night wouldn’t end up in a gunfight. It would be one hell of a mess.

There had been a time the van der Linde gang had been much more careful about spilling blood. They hadn’t cared if the people had been bad, evil - they deserved it. But when the gang had started accepting the killing of innocents, all for the sake of getting money… it had gone against the very teachings Arthur had learned. Blackwater was a shitshow. Strawberry - which Arthur regretted to an extreme - was an absolute shitshow. A whole bunch of innocent people slaughtered, all for the sake of rescuing Micah. The rat who didn’t deserve it.

Hosea was a master con artist, which was one of the reasons Arthur trusted this whole plan with the Kremer’s. There was less risk of bloodshed, if Arthur could play his part. It was strange Hosea hadn’t wanted to be here himself, but he trusted him. He and Sadie would do their best. 

He passed along his coat and hat to the butler as well and tried not to stare in awe at the golden chandelier hanging from the ceiling. In the middle was a wide marble staircase, lined with thick carpet. While Sadie and Sarah walked upstairs, Mr. Kremer moved through the first door on the right and into a large library. He headed straight for a glass of whiskey and poured two glasses. He handed one to Arthur and went to organize papers on his desk.

“Feel free to look around, Mr. Kilgore,” Mr. Kremer suggested. 

Arthur admired the books surrounding him. “Don’t mind if I do.” There were bookcases taller than him filled to the brim with books - mostly history and science, he realized. 

“Tell me, what do you do?” 

Arthur grabbed his cigarettes. He and Sadie had discussed this. “Mind if I smoke?” he asked. At Mr. Kremer nod, Arthur lit one, took a deep breath, and blew out the smoke slowly. “My family’s been dealin’ in the oil business. We’re keen on expandin’. We ain’t looked in the area too much, but it looks like it could be a good area.”

“Leviticus Cornwall comes to mind. I haven’t met the man, but from what I here, he’s expanding quite a bit.” Mr. Kremer took a sip of his whiskey and set it aside. “Do be wary when it comes to him. He’s not one to play around with.” 

“So I have heard. I won’t have to worry. The Mrs. is wantin’ to have a family, settle down. Put down roots before work demands more of me. Anyhow. What about you, Mr. Kremer?” 

“I did that part of settling down. Sarah… we married not long ago. I was a professor. Returned here to take care of my ailing folks, who are actually out of town at the moment. This mansion has been in the family for years, and with both my parents' health declining - I need to stay here in the meantime. This is a small, quiet town, but I have means to live.”

The butler entered the room and shut the door quietly behind him. “Excuse me, sir, there are matters to discuss before the party tonight.”

“Oh, right.” Mr. Kremer stood up and straightened his vest. “Mr. Kilgore, feel free to walk around. I believe Sarah has put you in the first room on the left up the stairs. Guests will start arriving around six. I apologize, but I must make sure everything is in order.”

A few short moments later Arthur was left alone in the library. It was almost too easy to snoop around. The windows were drawn, there was nobody in the room, and the desk of Mr. Kremer was still in partial disarray. He could easily rob the place blind, but that’s not what they were after. 

He kept his ears open as he ruffled through the papers on the desk and found the same flyer about the missing diamond necklace. News about the necklace had gone everywhere. It was a possibility they were looking in completely the wrong spot. Maybe Mr. Kremer was innocent. Maybe not. 

All the drawers of the desk were unlocked and clean of any necklace. Arthur felt slightly disappointed. It would have been absolutely too easy. With a sigh, he went back to browsing the hundreds of books, curious how there wasn’t dust on any single one of them. That was a bonus of having servants, he guessed. Everything was spotless.

The door opened and Sarah walked in, her brown curls bouncing. She shut the door behind her. “Mr. Kilgore, I would be delighted if you and Rebecca escorted me around our gardens.”

“Sure,” he responded. 

Sarah went to stand beside him, her shoulder brushing against his. She looked up at the books. “His collection is astounding, no?”

“I’ve not seen many like this, to be sure.” Arthur looked down at her. She was short, the top of her head reaching his shoulder. She peeked at him and blushed, glancing away quickly. Curious. 

She brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “You’re so tall, Mr. Kilgore.” She pressed her shoulder against him and leaned towards him. “And there’s a small wisdom in those blue eyes of yours.”

The way she held herself, pressing her body against his - he took a small step backwards. “Let’s meet up with my wife, shall we?” He left the room first. Something was off about her. Not many women batted their eyes at him unless they wanted something, and this was a married woman, for goodness sake. He has to be the one wrong. 

They met with Sadie and continued onto the gardens. Conversations were simple and pleasant. Whenever Sarah was hard pressed about their history, Sadie skillfully directed the conversation away to another topic. Arthur let her mostly do the talking, choosing to follow the two and admire the garden which was in full bloom. 

Within the hour they returned to their room to change for the party. Their room was plush with white and blue decorations, rugs, bed quilt. Sadie’s yellow dress had been pressed and was hanging along the dresser, along with Arthur’s white shirt, purple vest, tie, and dinner jacket. 

“Find out anythin’?” Arthur asked him as he started to undo his tie. He took a glance at Sadie, who had started to remove her overshirt. She grabbed her dress and moved to change behind the privacy wall. 

“Sarah’s talkative, that’s for sure. Clearly lonely. They married not only a month ago. Do we know how long the necklace has been missin’, by chance?” 

“Maybe a few months. Not very long.” Arthur undid the tie and tossed it onto the bed, then unbuttoned his shirt, dropped the suspenders and went to relax on the chair. He poured himself another whiskey and lit a cigarette. They had a bit of time to kill, so he pulled out his journal and started drawing a sketch of the Kremers. 

Sadie tossed her clothing over the side of the privacy wall and stepped out. The dress was simplified, yet still glamorous. Trelawny hadn’t held back with his suggestions and they hadn’t questioned where the man had produced all the clothing. The dress was a pastel yellow with short puff sleeves, which showed off her bare arms which was covered in freckles. White frills hung along the neckline and along the hem of the dress. The dress hugged every curve and tapered low on the breasts. 

“I didn’t even dress like this for my weddin’,” she frowned and walked over to admire herself in the mirror. “I don’t like it.” 

Arthur caught himself staring and turned his eyes back to his journal. “It looks mighty fine… Rebecca.”

“You gonna get dressed?” 

“There’s time yet. Are you gonna look further into Sarah?” 

Sadie sat down and started brushing her hair. “I think so. She promised to let me borrow some earrings, so I’ll be headed there shortly. I’ll take that time to look for the necklace.” 

“Mm. I’ll make small talk with the men, see if it comes up in any discussions. I’ll find a time to sneak away. Hopefully this isn’t just a fool’s game.”

“Even if it is…” Sadie paused as she was pinning her hair. “It feels good to get out of that camp. It was gettin’ stuffy, and everybody is on edge. I’m… startin’ to feel like I have a purpose again, you know? There’s the O’Driscolls. And then, there’s this.”

“Bein’ an outlaw?” 

“Maybe. All I know is, I can’t go back. Not without Jake.” Sadie finished pinning her hair and stood up. “I’ll be headed off, then. See you at the party. Good luck.” 

She left rather quickly. Arthur finished off his whiskey and cigarette, then dressed. He used pomade in his hair and cleaned up the grizzle on his neck. He stared in the mirror a bit longer, noticing the wrinkles along his eyes, the age catching up to him. The way Sarah had blushed when she looked at him - it was foolish to think anyone would look at him like that. He didn’t want it from her. He had wanted it from Mary… but she quit looking at him like that. It was always disappointment in her eyes. Regret. 

Mary-Beth had given him the same puppy dog eyes the first year she was in camp, the same puppy dog eyes she was giving the new O’Driscoll boy, Kieran. She was a dreamer, that one. Abigail hadn’t been interested, Karen would laugh at him, Tilly was like his sister… There were many reasons Arthur hadn’t pursued anyone he knew. 

He thought of Sadie. Beautiful, angry Sadie. She wasn’t ready for another man, not right now. She probably wouldn’t even have him. Maybe one day… if the world was perfect.

He met Sadie at the top of the staircase. He took her arm and kissed her lightly on the cheek. “Why, Mrs. Kilgore, you look beautiful.” 

Her cheeks flushed a tad. “The sooner we’re done with this, the sooner I’m out of the dress. I didn’t find anythin’-”

“Mr. Kilgore! Please, let me introduce you around,” Mr. Kremer said, motioning from the end of the stairs. 

It was a stretched hour of introductions, stories, and mingling among the wealthy men and women of the town. Arthur felt his energy drain fast as he tried to keep up with who everybody was, what they did, where they lived… everything that didn’t matter to him. Sadie had been grabbed by Sarah and were off in a cluster of women, chatting away.

Dinner was buffet style, which Arthur took advantage of. He stuffed himself full of candied bacon, meringues, slices of ham, salted almonds - everything he didn’t know or hadn’t ever had a chance to eat. If there was one thing about fancy parties he liked, it was the food. 

He found an escape in the middle of a conversation and slipped through a door. It was one of the kitchens currently empty of staff. He snagged a lemon cake off the counter and went through another door which led into a poorly lit room. It was another library, a bit smaller in size, and nothing mysterious to it. He moved on, going from room to room, exploring anything that seemed a bit unusual. 

There was a second smaller staircase in one of the rooms, which led to a corner of the hallway upstairs. He wandered around until he nearly ran into Sarah, who smiled prettily up at him. “Are you lost, Mr. Kilgore?”

“Just explorin’, ma’am. Honestly, it was gettin’ a little stuffy.” 

“I brought you some champagne,” she said, handing him a glass of bubbly liquid. “I think I know what you’re looking for, Mr. Kilgore.”

That took Arthur by surprise. “Oh?” He accepted the flute and took a sip. It was sweet, not really his type of drink, but he wanted to be polite. 

She motioned with her finger. “Follow me.” She went to a small room and opened the door. It was a tiny guest room, with a bed, desk, and simple fireplace. She walked over to the bookshelf and turned around to face him. “To us,” she cheered, raising her glass. 

“To us, I guess,” Arthur mumbled, clinking his glass against hers. He took a few more gulps. “Now, what do you think I’m lookin’ for, Mrs. Kremer?”

She eyed him warily as if considering something. She set aside her glass on the bookshelf behind her and smirked. “You tell me.”

“I… friendship…?” Arthur slightly stuttered. He wasn’t going to tell her outright. She was trying to drag it out of him.

“How about…” she slipped closer to him and pressed her body against his. She grabbed his free hand and lifted it up to press against her breasts.

He was struggling to resist. She started dancing in front of him, err, no, there were two of her dancing in front of him. 

Arthur dropped his glass, which bounced against the carpeted floor and splattered. He had been drugged, he was sure of it. Her hands were everywhere, rubbing against him, his own exploring where he hasn’t explored in years. Her shirt unbuttoned and pressed aside, he caught a glimpse of something sparkling in the light between her breasts and he reached for what belonged to him.

Shit, shit, 

The world was spinning, her mouth caught in his, until he found himself pushed backwards on the bed, the lights of the room doing somersaults above him. The blue eyes of Sarah left his vision and he let whatever it was claim him.

* * *

He woke up several times during the night, vomiting into a bucket, not knowing what poor soul was holding it. Someone forced a concoction down his throat and he nearly vomited it up as well. His skin was on fire, every touch hurt. 

It wasn’t until he heard birds chirping he was forced awake, lying in a bed that was not his, a blond woman sleeping in the chair next to him. He had fucked up, big time. Gotten himself poisoned by the woman who had stolen the necklace, a woman who was not who she seemed. 

“Sa- Rebecca,” he croaked through dry lips. 

She shot awake and was at his side in an instant. “Yes, Tacitus? How are you feelin’?”

“Like I been run over by a train.”

Sadie looked around and put her lips to his ear. “I’m sure you were poisoned, Arthur. The doctor didn’t think he could save you. They ain’t said it’s poison, but I’m sure of it.”

Arthur struggled to sit up, his sides hurting. Sadie put a pillow behind him. “It was the Mrs. Kremer,” he growled through clenched teeth. “She said she was gonna show me somethin’ in here.”

“Hmm… she was the one who found you. Came screaming and sobbing down the stairs.” 

“An act,” Arthur said, waving a hand. “She uh…” he reddened when he remembered what happened. “Gave me a drink. Bein’ the stupid oaf I was, I drank it. She seemed harmless enough. Next thing I know, she, uh…” he scratched his nose. “... came onto me, I guess. I couldn’t resist her. Kinda fell on the bed, and I don’t think she continued. I don’t remember.”

Sadie squinted her eyes at him. “She tried to…?”

Arthur nodded.

The chair squeaked as Sadie stood. “I’m going to wring her little neck-” she dashed forward to the door. 

Arthur was out of the bed and pulling her back by the arm. “No!” he whispered harshly. “Get back here, Sadie!”

She was huffing, but angrily glanced back at him. “The blanket, Arthur!”

Arthur looked down with embarrassment and realized his clothing had been stripped from him. He grabbed a blanket to cover his front and continued, “... we can use this! I didn’t die like she thought I would, obviously. We claim ignorance. Blame it on a natsy bug. While Mr. Kremer is away, I’ll invite her on a walk. Just her and me. I can get that necklace from her, I know I can. Trust me in this, Sadie.”

They slowly sat back down in their original spots. Sadie crossed her arms. “Mr. Kremer still seems innocent in all of this. She has hundreds of jewels, Arthur. I saw her collection. She has a flaky history. Mr. Kremer has no heirs, and in theory, she would inherit anything if he passed away. Clearly she’s done this before. She’s a con artist, Arthur. Just like us.”

“We’ll just have to be smarter ‘bout this.” Arthur ran a hand over his face. “I’m feelin’ better, just a little queasy. But I can do this. Let me get dressed.”

“Fine. I’ll go tell everyone you’re awake,” Sadie said and stood. She reached out and squeezed his hand. “I’m glad you’re okay. I wasn’t sure if…”

“I know. Thank you, Sadie. I’ll see you out there.”

* * *

It was evening by the time Arthur made his way downstairs to the living room where the two women were seated. He had bathed, cleaned his teeth, and made himself look presentable as ever. “Ladies,” he said, making his way to Sadie. He kissed her on the cheek and took a seat next to her.

“Oh, Mr. Kilgore, I’m so glad you’re okay. The doctor said you had a nasty fever, poor thing,” Sarah said, batting her eyelashes at him. She was dressed in a white laced gown, buttoned to the neck. 

“I admit, it was a crazy turn of events. I am sorry to spoil your evening with the party. But my wife here, she knew I would pull through.” Arthur took Sadie’s hand. “You look tired, my dear. How about you go take a rest?” 

Sadie feigned a yawn. “I suppose. I’m so glad you’re okay, Tacitus. Do come up soon. And thank you so much for letting us stay one more night, Mrs. Kremer. I promise you we will be out of your hair in the mornin’.”

“It’s not a problem at all,” Sarah smiled at her. 

Once Sadie bid her goodnights and departed the room, Arthur turned to Sarah and looked her up and down slowly. “I don’t remember where we left off, Mrs. Kremer.”

Sarah’s eyebrow twitched. “Whatever do you mean?.”

“Coulda just been a dream…” Arthur leaned back. “But it wasn’t a bad one. Where’s Mr. Kremer tonight?”

Sarah took a sip of her tea. “At a card game with our neighbors.” 

“Let’s move somewhere quiet,” Arthur mused. “Your husband’s library will do.”

There was a pause before she answered. “You were just sick with a fever, Mr. Kilgore. How do you presume to I want to go somewhere with you?” 

“Because I know your type,” Arthur drawled quietly, moving closer to her. “You’re a woman who wants to be in control. This is your house, obviously on your terms. You have power, money, a loving husband who… from the looks of it… might not be man enough for you.”

Sarah was smirking coyly. 

Arthur ran a finger up her arm, hoping none of the servants was watching. “Manipulation is a trait I find mighty appealing. I could use a woman like you. You almost killed me, Mrs. Kremer. I nearly died, yet I didn’t. I’m a man after power, and I survived. We’re a good match, you and I.” Hosea would be so proud. This was his strongest act yet.

She stood and walked over to the entryway of the living room. She placed a hand on the wall and looked back at him as an invitation, her eyes drawing him in. 

Arthur followed her slowly, his hands ready to draw his pistol if he needed to. They went past the stairs and into a back sitting room with one long couch and a lit fireplace. She walked in and moved to lounge on the couch while Arthur shut the door behind them. 

“I don’t want to ruin what I’ve built, so let’s set some rules,” Sarah said coyly. “This will mean nothing between us. We can continue this as long as you’re here, but the instant you leave, you’re out.”

“Well, how about that. You’ll be getting what you want… and I’ll be getting what I want.” 

Once he reached her side, Sarah grabbed his hand and pulled him down on her with a sharp tug, pressing her lips against his. He let himself be lost against her lips, moving on top of her, pressing himself against her. She rubbed her hips against him, encouraging him. One hand was pressed against his pant’s buckle, the other wrapped in his hair. 

He didn’t know how far he could go. He didn’t want to continue, not like this, yet has she grinded her hips against him, his body responded, and he forced himself to open her shirt and grab the necklace. Her bodice popped open as he pulled it apart, revealing plump breasts, the pink nipples perked and - no necklace. 

“I knew it,” she whispered at his hesitation and her hand moved. 

Arthur jumped off her, only to have her dive at him and send him falling backwards onto the floor. She held a knife in her hand and directed it at his face. He managed to grab her wrist and hold her off, just barely. With a grunt he pushed her off and landed a kick directly in her ribs, sending her falling backwards. Somewhere in her tumble, the knife had ran against his skin and gashed it. 

The necklace fell out of her pocket, which Arthur scooped up.

“Who are you, really?” Arthur demanded, holding the diamond necklace in front of her. “Besides bein’ a thief!”

“Obviously no better than someone like you!” Sarah spit at him. She keeled over and held her stomach where Arthur had kicked her. “You’re only here for the necklace. You’re no better than I am!” 

“What was your plan, Sarah? What was the point of trying to kill me?!” Arthur was seething. The cut on his arm was dripping warm blood. 

“Doesn’t matter,” she retorted. “I was in a good place before you came along! I would have had it all, once Oscar was gone!” 

The door clicked open then to reveal a pale faced Mr. Kremer, with Sadie and the Sheriff standing behind him. Sarah’s jaw dropped wide and she scuttled towards him. “My love! This man attacked me, tried to hurt me!”

“Sarah, stop.” Mr. Kremer said quietly. Sarah halted in her tracks. “Stop. We heard you. I’ve suspected you ever since I was sent a wanted poster with an image like you. My friend from California sent me this.” He pulled a brown piece of paper out and unfolded it, revealing an image likeness to Sarah and bearing the name “Bonnie Lushet wanted for LARCENY and MURDER.” 

Sarah went still. “So you found out. How long ago?”

“The day we met this fellow, and this lady,” Mr. Kremer said. “I suspected you would pull something that night, but you poisoned Mr. Kilgore instead. I read the stories about you, Bonnie. You’re a widow in three different states already. That necklace you’re holding, Mr. Kilgore, belongs to her most recent deceased husband, a Victor Crumb. His child, William Crumb, is searching for it. We must return it.”

Bonnie slumped to the ground, escape nearly impossible with two guns pointed at her. “You ruined everything,” she snapped at Arthur. “I wish I had killed you.”

Her husband ignored her. “With all respect, I will let William Crumb know you have retrieved the necklace. I had sent word, and he should be at a nearby hotel,” Mr. Kremer told Arthur. “You’re a good man, Mr. Kilgore. I thank you for your help.”

“Not a problem,” Arthur said and pocketed the necklace. 

As the sheriff and some of his men moved in to grab Bonnie, Sadie darted past them and dove into Arthur’s arms in a tight hug. “Dammit, Tacitius, you nearly scared the daylights out of me.”

Arthur hugged her tightly back, thinking she was playing her part well. When he felt her shivering, he realized she had been worried. “It’s all right,” he muttered, surprised. “We gonna be just fine.”

That night Bonnie Lashet was taken away by the sheriff and William Crumb met with the group at the mansion. He was a pleasant young man, still clearly mourning the loss of his father. He thanked Arthur and Sadie and was true to his word. They left that night with a thousand in their pocket for the diamond, plus a hundred for the bounty on Bonnie Lushet, and forever in the good graces of the Mr. Kremer. 

Arthur was a bit disappointed it was Tacitus Kilgore who left on good graces, and not on Arthur Morgan, who still had a five thousand dollar bounty on his head. A lying, thieving outlaw on the run. It felt good knowing people could trust him again, even if his identity had been a lie. 

* * *

As time went on, Arthur barely traveled without Sadie anymore. Every hunting trip, every scouting, every mission, was with her. They found people to help instead of robbing them. They found gangs of corrupt men and properly disposed of them. They would return to camp each night with new additions and upgrades to add to the camp, money to donate, and food to put on the table. 

However, their time on Horseshoe Overlook was proving short. The Pinkertons were drawing in, the O’Driscolls kept popping up here and there, and people at camp were starting to doubt Dutch. Arthur would watch Dutch tout his loyalty speech, his promise he would find a home for the gang. The words felt empty, more like a rambling from Dutch who couldn’t decide on how to continue. 

There was always a plan, yet there never was. A part of Arthur wished they would go west instead of east, or worse, to Tahiti, a place where Arthur clearly did not want to go. It sounded like a dream, one that wasn’t meant for them. They needed money. Lots of it by any means possible, and Arthur was afraid of how desperate Dutch was getting.

Micah, the nasty crook, kept butting heads with everyone in camp. Kept digging in his business with Dutch, giving him ideas nobody wanted. Arthur hated it about Micah, who had basically replaced Hosea. Dutch and Micah traveled together, ate together. It brought out the worst in Dutch, something Arthur had never seen before. 

Maybe it had always been there. Maybe Dutch had always had this corruption inside of him, and he was finally fed up. 

One night he argued with Dutch and his newest plan. It had come as a surprise, a plan so unlike Dutch. “This ain’t right,” Arthur bit out, staring at the three men. “The O’Driscoll’s don’t want no parley. They been huntin’ me and Sadie for a good while now. Ain’t no way they’d want it.”

“No, you been hunting them, and they’re tired of it,” Micah sneered at him. “You and Sadie been going so hard after them O’Driscolls, there are barely any left!”

“You saw what they did to her,” Arthur said, pointing a finger at Dutch and ignoring Micah. “They don’t want this between us!” 

“This is what I have decided,” Dutch reasoned. “We’ll leave first light tomorrow. I need you there, Arthur, to be our eyes, in case you’re right. Colm O’Driscoll always has something up his sleeve, but we’ll be ready for him. I know it.”

Arthur clenched his fists and pushed past Dutch towards the camp.

“Yeah!” Micah called after him. “Go crawling back to the widow’s tent! We know that’s why you’re so bent against this!”

Arthur ignored him and grabbed his pack from his tent. He wouldn’t stay with them that night. He was sick and tired of sleeping on a cot, sick and tired of fending for his life, sick of stealing, robbing, all in the name of surviving -

“Arthur,” Sadie said, catching up to him. “I’m comin’ with you.”

He knew she would, and he appreciated it. They headed out of camp and up to the mountains, away from civilization and deep into the forests, surrounded by a rushing creek and sounds chirping crickets and coyotes. 

They set up camp effortlessly, working in a rhythm they had mastered the past few months. Arthur propped up the tent, nailing the stakes into the ground with force, beating out the anger he felt. He walked around with a bitterness, knowing tomorrow wasn’t going to end well. But of course nobody would listen to him. He was nothing but a grunt, another lackey of Dutch’s. 

Summer was upon them in full force, the warm night air causing him to sweat. He wiped away furiously at the beads on his forehead and rolled out his bedroll, angry at the world and himself. 

He heard a low hum caught in the wind and listened closely. It was coming from Sadie, who was focused on building the campfire. She was humming a simple song, one he felt was familiar. It calmed him, reminding where he was, who he was with. He sat by the fireplace and let out a long sigh.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Sadie asked. 

Arthur rubbed his beard. He had let it grow in ever since the necklace adventure and he now sported a full beard. “Dutch wants to parley with the O’Driscolls. I told him it’s a trap, and he’s not listening. Because Micah.”

“I overheard,” Sadie said, poking the fire. “I’m upset about it too.”

“How come you’re not more upset than I am? The O’Driscolls been fightin’ us left and right.”

She set aside the stick and sat down next to him. “I believe you. I don’t think they want to parley, and Dutch needs to see that with his own eyes. So I say let it happen. Dutch doesn’t experience anything, Arthur. He’s always at camp, plotting new ideas, letting his men do the work. He’ll see that you were right.”

Arthur reached to a tuft of grass and pulled at it absentmindedly. “I guess you’re right. It’ll be dangerous.”

He felt her hand go over his. “You can do it, Arthur.” Her hand lingered, not lifting it away. Arthur steadied his breath, the touch sending multiple emotions through him. They’d been working closely for months now. Their stay at Horseshoe Overlook had been longer than expected, and they’d grown closer together as friends. 

Arthur hadn’t wanted to push. He caught himself watching Sadie as they traveled, the way her hair flowed, how she posed herself, how she talked and laughed. He hadn’t paid close attention to a woman in a long time. He knew her favorite drink, her favorite food. Everything about her was addicting and pulling him in.

He found himself lifting her hand and bringing it to his lips, kissing it with the softest touch. He listened for any inhale, any mutter that should stop him. There was none. He continued to kiss up her arm ever so slowly until he lifted his head to face her, her lips inches from his. 

The need in her eyes echoed his. Together they leaned in and kissed, her lips soft, shy, but hungry. The kisses started out slow, then continued with building anticipation, their tongues exploring each other with interest. She bit his lip and pushed him back as she wrapped her legs around him to sit on his lap. 

Arthur let his hands explore, untucking her shirt and running his hands along her back. He felt a band which wrapped around her chest; he pushed it down and brought his hands forward to caress her breasts. With a few movements she unbuttoned her shirt and shrugged it off, revealing her bare chest to him, the nipples perked at the sensations. She leaned up as Arthur ran his tongue over a nipple lightly, then tugging on it lightly with his teeth before sucking hard on it. 

Her hands ran through his hair and pushed aside his shirt as he played with her nipples, teasing her with his tongue. He broke away to shrug off his shirt, then pulled one of the bed rolls toward them. He maneuvered Sadie to lie on her back and she kicked off her pants with his help. 

He pushed past the shyness as he looked at her small patch of blond hair and the folds of her womanhood. It had been ages since he had pleased a woman. He gave her a sly smile as he leaned down, flicking his tongue over her knot. As he felt her hands in his hair he continued, listening to her sighs of pleasure before breaking away and pulling back to undo his bulging pants.

Before he entered her, he leaned over her and kissed her neck and teased her with his fingers, feeling the wetness. Jesus. He wanted nothing more than to have his way with her and the way she looked at him - he entered her silky folds with a low groan. 

He started out slow, not wanting to end it quickly. The more he looked at her freckled face, her breasts, her hands grasping the blanket, her mouth biting her lips, the harder it was to control himself. Only when she started to twist and gasp under him did he start thrusting harder, enjoying the rushing sensation, gazing at her breasts moving up and down - 

“Goddammit,” he cursed quietly, feeling a rush of heat and passion - he pulled out quickly and finished on her stomach, letting out a soft groan. He collapsed on his side and heaved a deep breath before grabbing a random article of clothing and handing it to her to clean herself. 

She took a deep breath and had an arm over her head. “Shit, Arthur,” she whispered. “Who knew.”

Arthur chuckled and rolled to her side. “Who knew,” he agreed, kissing her shoulder. “I been wanting to do that for a long time now.”

Sadie smirked. “I’m sorry I made you wait.”

“Don’t be. You were worth it.” 

She rolled closer to him. “If I assume correctly, we might be doin’ this again in the future.”

He nuzzled her cheek with his beard. “That might be correct.”

“In that case, I’m gonna get somethin’, next time we’re in town. Just in case.” 

“Oh.” Arthur pulled back in thought. “Yeah. Might be best. I didn’t come prepared, myself. Hope you don’t mind that I…” he waved to the mess he had created. “... that I did that.”

“I don’t. We gotta play it safe… until we figure out who we are. Where we goin’.” 

“Mmm…” Arthur held her close, breathing in her scent. He felt tempted to nod off, but the sound of rushing water caught his attention.

“Well, Sadie, there’s a creek nearby and I say we’re due for a swim.” Arthur stood slowly and pulled Sadie up with him. They wandered over together, holding hands, stealing smiles at each other. Arthur knew he had been blessed when he had found her. Maybe life would be okay after all.

But life plays a cruel trick every once in awhile, and the next day when they went to parley with the O'Driscolls, Arthur found out just how cruel it could be. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Don't be shy, I love comments. Thank you for reading. <3)


	3. Part Three: The Outlaw

_Present Day_

Arthur left Annesburg, leaving his history behind him. The memories with Sadie, Charlotte, the O’Driscolls, the torture - the only option was to continue moving forward. And that was to rescue Dutch and the others. What happened afterwards… would remain up in the air. He wouldn’t allow himself to dream, not at that moment. 

The path to Beaver Hollow was sleek with rain and mud, hidden deep in the forested ridge of Roanoke hills. Once, the path would have been cleared and well taken care of, but after learning a bit of the Murfrees and the destruction they bring, the mountain paths had long been forgotten. This was Murfree territory now, part van der Linde. At least for the next few weeks. 

The hardest part of returning would be convincing the others he hadn’t upright abandoned them. Especially Micah, not that Arthur cared much for him. But he was an extra gun and they were short on men. They couldn’t afford to butt heads. 

Lenny was the first to greet him as he approached the camp. Arthur dismounted and shook hands with the smiling man, clearly happy to see him.

“Knew you wasn’t dead,” Lenny beamed at him. “Pleased to see you still alive, Arthur.”

“Me too, Lenny.” Arthur clasped him on the back and walked into camp with him. He tied the reins of his horse to a hitching post and looked around camp. Several tents were set up, with familiar people sitting around a large campfire. Everyone was dressed in their winter clothing, prepared for the onslaught of snow that would arrive any day now. 

Mary Beth was the first to spot him, along with the Jack. Smiles appeared on their faces and Arthur found him swarmed with his friends, giving him hugs or shaking his hand. It was easy to see the relief on their faces, and the love they had for him. Arthur picked up Jack and held the boy close, knowing this was the reason why he returned. His family needed him. 

Sadie hung outside the group, smoking a cigarette and frowning. It would be awhile before Arthur and Sadie could be friends again. He hoped whatever barrier he created between them wasn’t permanent. He needed her… but she probably didn’t need him. He would have to relearn his boundaries in order to respect that.

After the meet and greet was finalized and everybody huddled around the fire, John hushed everyone. He’d let his beard grow in, Arthur realized, something the man had barely done. His eyes had deep bags and his cheeks looked thinner. Everyone did. The gang had only crumbled since the loss of Dutch and Hosea. 

“We won’t be this way much longer,” John was saying. 

Micah coughed and crossed his arms. “You got a plan, then?” He shot daggers at Arthur, fury in his voice. Out of everyone, Micah looked the worst. His eyes were bloodshot, his skin pale and a tad purple, and his overall frame was smaller. The man had lost extreme weight. 

He and Dutch had been close, close enough Arthur had his suspicions about the two of them. Nothing had ever been confirmed, as Dutch had his eyes set on Mary Beth for a time. Arthur thought back to the time Molly deserted them, claiming Dutch was fascinated by others that weren’t her. She got out early, which Arthur was pleased with. The woman deserved someone who was not Dutch. 

“We do,” Charles stood up and shook out a newspaper. He gave everyone a moment to scan the title. “COLM O’DRISCOLL CAUGHT! The notorious gang leader is set to hang on January 13th, 1900. The gang leader DUTCH VAN DER LINDE will be hung on the same day, as to rid two evils from this world,” Charles read out loud. He set his lips in a grim line. “Also listed, is Miss Grimshaw, Hosea, Bill, Abigail, and Uncle. They will be hung in St. Denis.”

“The O’Driscoll’s know how to rescue Colm. They’ve done it before. This is not the first time Colm has faced the noose,” John said, looking around at the group. “We will use that to our advantage. We know they’ve been in the Sisika Penitentiary since they’ve been captured. Our previous attempts at rescues have failed, and it’s been too risky to try anything more. Now is our last and final chance.”

“We will need all hands on deck this time,” Charles cut in. “Everybody who can use a gun. Not only will we have to fight the police and Pinkertons, we’ll have to fight the O’Driscolls.”

John took the newspaper from Charles and folded it in half. “We will go dressed in our best. Try to fit in to the crowd.”

Pearson, looking even larger in his winter coat, took a swig of his whiskey and set it aside. “What’s the escape plan?”

“That’s where you come in, Pearson. Lenny, you’ll be with him,” John replied. “We’ll need a wagon set up a couple streets away, covered. We’ll try to bring Dutch and Hosea to the wagon and hide them. Karen, Sean, you’ll be in charge of another wagon on the other side. We will try to split everyone into two groups. Everyone else on a horse will try to distract the policeman, keep them away from the wagons. 

“This is where it’ll get more difficult. We can’t all head back to Beaver Hollow in one group. It’s too risky. So we’ll be splitting up, single or pairs. Whatever works out. We’ll meet back in Beaver Hollow, and if nobody has turned up in five days - then we’ll know something happened to you.”

Every word that was coming out of John’s mouth was surprising Arthur. In Dutch’s absence, John had obviously stepped up. It was obvious that John was torn up after losing Abigail and was dedicated to rescuing her. This was a man changed for the better, Arthur realized. 

Regardless, if Arthur hadn’t gotten captured and the gang lured into the O’Driscoll/Pinkerton trap… none of this would’ve happened. They could’ve been in Tahiti by now. Not that Arthur had ever wanted to go there, or even thought they could have. Dutch was a dreamer, not a realistic. That was Hosea’s job, and his words were usually moot to Dutch as of late. 

“We have less than three weeks,” John finished. “That’ll give us enough time to prep our guns and finalize our plan.” 

“About cowpoke here-” Micah cut in, motioning his head toward Arthur. “How do you know we could trust him?” Confused stares turned to him. “He was gone for nearly six months. How do we not know the Pinkertons forced him to work for them?”

Arthur snuffed out his cigarette against the ground. “How am I gonna prove it to ya, Micah? I ain’t betrayed you, or the gang. I lost my memory, as John as explained to all of you. I’m here now, ain’t I?”

Micah scoffed and growled, “We’ll see,” then stomped away towards his tent.

That was that. After a few more quiet words amongst each other, the gang disbursed towards their tent and Arthur moved his pack and sleeping roll to the tent with the Charles. He wasn’t sure how to spend his time, so he and Charles took off to go hunting for Pearson. 

“We’re glad you’re back. It feels right,” Charles mentioned to him as they left the camp. “We’ve been falling apart left and right. John’s been doing a good job, but… he’s lost a lot of sleep. He’s missing Abigail fiercely.”

“I hope that girl’s doin’ okay,” Arthur mused sadly. “She don’t deserve to be locked up.”

“Usually they’re a bit kinder to women, but since she was arrested as a part of the van der Linde gang, they’re giving her the same treatment. She doesn’t deserve the noose, Arthur, the least out of all of them. If she hadn’t been captured… not many would have stuck around. Dutch made poor decisions that day you were kidnapped. One after another.”

“Once we’re all together, we’ll set things straight again, Charles.”

Charles flashed him a look of slight skepticism. “You know it’ll never be the same again, Arthur. The women are saying this is the last adventure they’ll have. Mary Beth and Kieran plan on leaving for Strawberry, Tilly and Lenny to St. Denis, if they can return with no issues. Karen and Sean are also talking. Pearson, too. After we got the news you were kidnapped and dead, we lost hope.”

“How did you guys figure I was dead?” 

“In the chaos of a standoff between the O’Driscolls and the Pinkertons away from the camp; they had your hat. Mentioned they’d killed you off and dumped you somewhere. Sadie reacted something fierce. It was a shitshow, Arthur. They focused mainly on Dutch and Hosea. Bill was caught in an explosion and was injured. A few Pinkertons raided camp at Horseshoe Overlook, but Karen and Sean was able to fend them off, but Miss Grimshaw and Abigail happened to be caught in the middle. Jack was a wreck for days, everybody was scattered. Once we learned where the Pinkertons locked up everyone, we gave a rescue a few attempts… but everytime we failed.”

Arthur let out a long sigh. “Six months, Charles. A time where I could’ve been there for everybody.”

“From the sound of it, you were pretty badly injured yourself. Don’t blame yourself for Dutch’s bad decisions. As far as I’m aware, it was Dutch’s fault for all of this. And he brought others down with him. And, by the way… you may want to talk to Sadie. You two were inseparable. But you two didn’t even talk to each other back at camp today.”

“I did somethin’ there’s no comin’ back from, Charles, and she deserves better than that.”

“When this is over, you two are gonna need each other. You keep each other sane. Let’s get a move on, I want to get a deer before sundown. It’s threatening to snow.”

* * *

Charles wasn’t wrong about the snow. By the time they returned and had the deer stripped and roasting over the fire, tiny snowflakes started falling. It was a grim reminder of their trek through the mountains a year ago, just after the Blackwater chaos. The snow fell heavily and long into the night, turning everything a solid white. 

Nobody was in the mood for snow. Everybody shifted their supplies and sleeping rolls to the entrance of the cave, making makeshift drapes and building multiple campfires to keep warm. Arthur took a quiet stroll through the cave, noticing the horrors enraptured in it. There were pools of blood, wooden cages, instruments of torture. Charles had mentioned there had been quite a battle cleaning the place out, and the bodies had been removed from the scene. The cave didn’t smell pleasant as he descended further, a waft of body odor, disease, and waste filling his nose. No wonder none of the gang members wanted to hide further in. This cave was not fit for living unless it was cleaned out, and they didn’t have time for it.

Nightmares haunted Arthur as he slept. As the days kept passing, they only got worse, as he woke up thrashing and silently yelling as he remembered the torture. One night he escaped to the creek, his whole body shaking. He remembered the face clearly now, the man who - Arthur vomited at the thought of it and returned to his bedroll, trying to block out the thoughts.

Christmas day was spent in quiet solitude, as everybody lacked gifts to hand out. There was no singing, dancing, laughing, as they had done in the past every Christmas morning. Arthur spent the day cleaning his guns for the hundredth time and writing in his journal. 

Sadie kept to herself and did her chores quietly. Arthur didn’t have a chance to talk to her until the night before the new year, where she was standing watch away from camp. Arthur decided to take a glass of whiskey to her.

She barely glanced at him as he walked up. He handed over the drink to her silently, which she accepted after a pause. They were silent as they drank, taking in the silence the snow brought. A new draft had fallen that afternoon, the new spread crisp and fresh. 

“I hate this between us, Sadie,” Arthur started, staring at the swirling liquid in his cup. “I want us to keep bein’ friends.”

Sadie downed the whiskey and handed the cup back. “I ain’t angry at you Arthur-”

“You are,” he retorted. “I ain’t been a smart man my whole life, Sadie Adler, and my life ain’t been easy. So please, forgive me that I tried to get out of it, without meanin’ to. You know I would never intentionally harm you. I loved you.”

She looked away. Her hair covered her flushed face. 

Arthur took a soft step forward. “I made a mistake. I’ll accept it. But I still want you to be my friend. I want my partner back.”

“The hardest thing I ever went through was losin’ my Jakie,” she said softly. “The second was losin’ you. I couldn’t be happier you alive. But it’s hard, Arthur. I don’t know what we supposed to do.”

“We give it time,” Arthur affirmed and left her. 

A few nights later he was once again by the creek, emptying the contents of his stomach. He couldn’t get the man’s face out of his head. Ever since he regained his memory, he remembered every boot that kicked him, the burn of the metal against his chest, the hands on his skin. He was tired of remembering it. 

Warmth covered his shoulders and he looked up to see Sadie standing over him, placing a heavy blanket around his shoulders. She silently sat by him and pulled it over her shoulder. They stared into the dark, glittering waters of the creek, listening to the water as it drifted by. She didn’t speak for the longest time.

“Tell me,” Sadie murmured, her eyes downcast. “I hear you every night, Arthur. Everybody does. We’re concerned.” 

Shame crept through him as he looked down at his hands. He pulled on his gloves and cleared his throat. “I… there was this one O’Driscoll.” The words were slow to come out. “At my weakest, he forced himself on me. Experienced somethin’ only meant between lovers, Sadie. I can’t get it out of my head. It don’t matter he was a man. It matters that I was powerless. I had no say, I couldn’t…” he bit off and took a deep breath. “I never been so ashamed in my life. But I escaped. I found a way, hopped on my horse and left it behind me and headed home.

“Or at least, that’s what I was tryin’ to do,” he continued. “I must’ve knocked my head. I wound up on Charlotte’s doorstep. You don’t know what it’s like to not know who you are, but wakin’ up in a world that seems almost perfect. Just me and her, and I didn’t have no more of the memories. But it was all a dream, Sadie. I started rememberin’ before you found me. I remembered the pain. And now, it shames me to find that I betrayed not only you, but Charlotte. After Eliza, I would play it smart, I told myself. No one. Then you came along, and I broke. Twice over. I loved Charlotte, Sadie. But she’s just another Eliza. And I won’t have that.”

Sadie reached over and grabbed his hand, her fingers cold against his. “I had a suspicion that’s what happened. You need time for healin’, Arthur Morgan. It ain’t easy, believe me. You have this weight on your shoulders. I can’t just tell you to get rid of it. There’s a reason why I’m always after the O’Driscolls, Arthur. There was multiple men who assaulted me. Their faces are burned in my brain. I done away with two of them already. There’s this hatred in my chest that isn’t goin’ away. I know you ain’t in the revenge business, but this is how I’m gonna heal. But…” Sadie sniffed and wiped her nose. “What the other ladies know, but the menfolk don’t… I had another miscarriage soon after I was rescued. It was Jake’s and mine. She was just the tiniest thing. She’s buried just below Horseshoe Overlook.”

“Sadie…” Arthur murmured and wrapped her arm around her. “I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s why I have to do this. And I’m sorry for what happened to you. We’ll get through this, Arthur. We will. We just gotta give ourselves time and patience.” 

Arthur held her tightly, his head on hers, feeling closer to her than he had ever before. He felt more peace than he had for months. He couldn’t explain it. It didn’t matter if they wouldn’t be lovers. They needed each other in that moment.

A few minutes later they pulled apart and stared at each other. Sadie smiled softly. “My butt is frozen,” she said, breaking the awkward silence.

“I haven’t felt mine for awhile,” Arthur agreed, the snow piled up around them. 

Together they left for their bedrolls, moving them closer together, and fell asleep just an arm’s length away from each other. For the first night in weeks, Arthur slept through the rest of night.

* * *

He and Sadie stood in the streets of St. Denis a few weeks later amongst a crowd of at least a hundred people. As Sadie was dressed in a pretty yellow dress, Arthur was dressed in a fine silver suit with a large brimmed hat. He had been growing his beard for the sole purpose of hiding his face. With the help of Trelawny, his beard was shaped into a nice Van Dyke style. He hadn’t decided if he would keep the style after all of this. For now, his attention was focused on the prison wagon rolling down the street.

Lenny was stationed in one of the taller buildings, his rifle primed for giving them cover. Arthur had already spotted a few O’Driscoll men in their dark clothes and shady appearance. They had a plan up their sleeve, that was for sure. 

Everyone was in place, along with the two wagons meant to hide the fugitives. They had ultimately decided to let the O’Driscolls make the first move in hopes they didn’t try to kill Dutch right away. Arthur figured that wouldn’t be the case. If anything, the O’Driscolls wanted Dutch alive. The Pinkertons were a common enemy in this case, and every bit of manpower would help.

Sadie was beyond irritated the O’Driscolls were being allowed to live, at least for the moment. Her hand was resting near her pistol, ready to make the first move. Arthur knew he didn’t have long until she let loose. She was their secret weapon who could take them all out, but only if she played by the rules. 

John was at the other end of the crowd, his expression betraying him. Arthur could see the anxiousness on his face, his eyes scanning the prison wagon for any sign of Abigail. There were two wagons which were stopped in front of the platform.

The crowd grew silent as the wagon’s door was unlocked and they pulled out Bill first. He was thinner and more haggard, muttering insults to the policeman who had him. Next was Uncle, his usual red face pale and for once, he was at a loss for words. Miss Grimshaw stepped out soon afterwards, who held her head high, her face proud, not betraying any emotion. She turned back and murmured a few words. Arthur imagined she was speaking to Abigail.

Abigail was in tears when she was pulled out of the wagon. Arthur clenched his fists and felt a wave of anger. He and Sadie held hands, squeezing hard. They didn’t want Abigail to suffer the shame or the insult from the crowd. She was a caring mother, a loving wife - she was the last person to deserve this.

They were moved to the back of the platform and the next wagon was opened. Colm O’Driscoll, the bastard, was dragged out first, then Dutch. For once in Dutch’s life he looked disheveled, his eyes wide and crazed as he looked upon the crowd. He had a long beard and was dressed in simple clothing. His eyes were scanning the waves of people, never once revealing if he knew anybody in the crowd. 

Dutch had to know they were there. Once Dutch focused on the rope hanging down, his gaze settled and he held himself straight. The last of the prisoners was Hosea, who stepped out of the wagon with ease, his face grim, like he had accepted his fate. His eyes locked on Arthur as if he knew he was there, then quickly darted away, his face expressionless. Arthur was relieved to see all of them unhurt. 

One man dressed in a fancy black suit and top hat wandered on the stage, then started to read a long list of the feats accomplished by Colm and Dutch. 

It was any moment now. Dutch and Colm were the first ones brought to the two nooses. Arthur felt sweat beading down the side of his head. He might have to make a move if they put the noose over-

The black suited man’s head exploded and all hell broke loose. Arthur brought out his pistol and took care of the guards on the platform, standing still amidst a raging crowd. Blood splattered to the left and right of Arthur, meaning Lenny’s shots were staying true. Police officers fell, along with any O’Driscoll that got in Sadie’s way. 

The police greatly underestimated both gangs. Dutch had fewer numbers, but they were fierce, dependable, and a better aim. Colm, well, he had the trigger happy numbers. The police stood little chance.

John was on the platform in the chaos and cutting through the ties around the prisoner’s hands. He quickly pulled Abigail, Miss Grimshaw, and Uncle away into the crowd, disappearing into the chaos. Lenny provided him cover as he escaped to the side streets. Meanwhile Micah and Javier pulled Dutch, Hosea, and Bill off the platform, handing them proper weapons to shoot their way out. Arthur and Sadie proceeded to shoot any O’Driscoll or police officer that stood in their way, though Colm had already been pulled away. They would have to deal with him later.

There was a sudden break in gunfire and Arthur followed behind Dutch and the others, ducking behind cover and killing one man after another. It was a sight to behold, really. They headed to the wagon where Karen and Sean waited anxiously.

“Arthur?!” Dutch shouted after he fired off a shot. “My boy!” he wandered over and clasped hands with him. “I didn’t think you-” he grunted and stumbled backwards, blood seeping through his shirt. “Aw, shit.” 

“Goddammit!” Arthur cursed and pulled him towards the cover. He looked back, looking for whoever had shot him. He locked eyes with Colm, now seated on a horse, a smoking gun in his hands. Colm tipped his hat towards him and headed away, quickly out of sight. 

He pulled Dutch to the wagon and with the help of Bill, lifted him up and pulled the cover over him. Hosea patted Arthur on the back before hopping in. “Glad to see you alive, Arthur.”

“You too, Hosea. Sean! Get this thing going!” Arthur roared. “Hosea, Dutch’s been shot. Take care of him.”

Hosea was in the wagon in an instant and applying pressure to Dutch’s chest. They were covered by the blanket and rushing down the road, towards the outskirts of St. Denis. 

There was no choice but to find their horses and leave. Arthur and Sadie ran to where they had left them, putting their guns away and trying to blend in with the scattering people. They would have to trust Sean and Karen to return Dutch safety. Arthur and Sadie planned to follow from a distance, to put anybody off their track. 

They were out of St. Denis before more forces arrived, though the chaoticness of the escaped Colm helped their case. Police didn’t know where to head, and the ones that did manage to follow Arthur, were shot dead. Night fell by the time Arthur finally felt they had escaped and he sincerely hoped everybody had gotten away. He didn’t know how badly Dutch had been hurt, but he knew they didn’t have many of the supplies to take care of him, or the medical care. 

They continued on, only resting here and there. It was a long stretch of hours that blended together. When it was less of a risk, they joined up with Sean and Karen, finding Dutch, Hosea, and Bill in the back of the wagon.

“Where’s Micah?” Dutch asked Arthur when he first saw him. He had a bandage wrapped around his stomach and a glossy sheen to his skin. 

“He’s not with you?” Arthur said. He looked to Sadie, who shrugged. “He was with you, last I saw.”

Doubt flickered in Dutch’s eyes, which quickly faded. “What about everybody else?”

“We’re to meet at Beaver Hollow. John got Abigail and the others. We had to split up. We thought it best to confuse them.”

“Hmm…” Dutch coughed lightly. “Let us hope that we do.” 

Two days later, though a soft sprinkling of snow, they entered the camp of Beaver Hollow. It was evident they were the first to arrive, which caused Arthur a bit of a worry. Trelawny, Strauss, Mary Beth, and Tilly had stayed behind with Jack, and they searched for medical supplies. They set Dutch up in a tent with fresh bandages and gave him firm instructions to rest and not move.

Arthur waited impatiently at the path, waiting for everyone to arrive. Javier and Kieran showed up first, followed by Lenny, who confirmed John was just down the path. Sure enough, John and Abigail sat in front of the wagon, holding hands and openingly smiling. Arthur helped Abigail off the wagon and enveloped her into a bear hug, laughing through unbidden tears. He set her down and let her run to Jack.

John hopped off the wagon and nearly stumbled. “I’m starving,” John said, smiling sheepishly. “We got a bit lost, trying to get them off our trail. Lenny here provided great distraction. But we’re here.”

“That you are,” Arthur said. He walked to the back of the wagon and helped Miss Grimshaw off the wagon. He gave her a quick hug, then let Tilly walk her to her tent. After a handshake with Uncle and greeting, he began to take notes of who was there.

Everyone was accounted for, except Micah. Where’d he wander off to? 

The camp started settling down, with Pearson cooking up one of his fancy stews. Javier brought out his guitar and soon the camp was singing along poorly to one of his songs, fresh drinks and stew in hand. Arthur was hesitant to join in on the festivities. Something didn’t feel right.

Kieran was the first to approach him. “We’re leavin’ in the mornin’, Mr. Morgan,” Kieran said, nervousness in his voice.

Arthur was sitting on a log, his journal in his hands. He smoked his cigarette and let out a puff. “You and Mary Beth, then?”

“And Sean, Karen.” Kieran awkwardly took a seat beside him.

Dutch would be devastated, but Arthur wasn’t going to say that. “Why you gotta be the messenger boy?” 

“They’re too drunk, and they don’t want Dutch to know right now.”

Arthur nodded in agreement. “You gonna take care of Mary Beth?”

Kieran reddened and straightened himself. “Yes. You ain’t been here, but we been seein’ each other for awhile now. We want to start somewhere simple. Karen and Sean might not stick with us, in the long run… but we don’t see a future here. We haven’t for awhile.”

“Well… you have my blessin’, O’Driscoll. Not that you need it. Take care of Mary Beth, you hear? She’s a dreamer. Make sure she writes those books of hers.”

“Yes! Of course, Mr. Morgan.” Kieran gave him a smile and went to go join Mary Beth by the fire.

The festivities continued well into the night. Arthur found himself stopping by Karen and giving her a firm hug, claiming he was going to miss her. He did the same to Mary Beth, then made sure to tease Sean. 

John and Abigail hadn’t left each other’s side, curled up against a log by the fire, a blanket wrapped around their shoulders. Jack was in between them, a sleepy smile on his face. They were reunited again. What their plans were, whether they would choose to stay or leave was up in the air. 

Arthur went to bed, wishing the world could pause, so he could keep these memories with him forever. Everybody was happy, content. Micah wasn’t there. In a sense, it was like old times. 

When he woke up, he knew it wasn’t the case. Voices were yelling at each other outside the cave, so he quickly dressed and found Micah and John staring each other down. Arthur got between them and pushed them away. “What’s this fussin’ about!?” Arthur demanded. 

Micah batted aside Arthur’s hand. “He don’t want me here!”

“He’s claimin’ the O’Driscolls are on their way!” John shot back. “He led them here!”

“They were already comin’!” Micah retorted. He took a step back and hacked into his elbow. He wiped his mouth and glared at the two of them. “Let me see Dutch.”

“Fine.” Arthur waved him through and Micah brushed past him.

Arthur took a quick look at John. “Let’s get everybody out of here.” 

The next few hours, the gang members started packing their supplies and belongings, saying their goodbyes and promising to write eachother. Dutch insisted on sitting outside, still as weak as ever, so he could watch everybody leave. For once, he was at a loss of words. One by one the camp said goodbye to him, promising they would write when they could. 

Miss Grimshaw was silent as she drank a glass of whiskey, silently crying to herself. Mary Beth hesitantly went up to her. “You can come with us, Miss Grimshaw.”

“I can’t,” she responded, her voice anguished. “It ain’t for me, Mary Beth. You go. I’ll be here. They still need someone to boss them around.” She wiped away her tears and gave Mary Beth a loving hug. Tilly bid a tearful goodbye to the older lady, while Karen kept it simple and to the point. 

“Abigail,” John began quietly. “I want you to go with Mary Beth. Just for a little while.”

Abigail looked stricken. “I ain’t leavin’ you-!”

“You gotta, Abigail! Dutch ain’t well enough to travel, and if the O’Driscoll’s are comin’? I need you safe. I’ll come grab you when it’s over. They’re headed west. You’re on wanted posters now, all over this side. You gotta stay safe.” John kissed her on the forehead. “Promise me.”

A small tear crept down Abigail’s cheek. “I promise. You come find me, John Marston. I’ll be waitin’.”

Mary Beth, Kieran, Karen, Sean, Abigail and Jack took off by noon, followed by Strauss, Pearson, Swanson, and Trelawny. Tilly and Lenny left shortly afterwards, leaving the camp an empty, quiet shell of what it once was. 

“You’ve rescued me, but for what?” Dutch said meekly once Arthur sat by him. He stared unblinking into the fire, which crackled and sparked. “I just lost a part of my family, Arthur.”

Micah took a seat across from them. “They were extra hands to feed, Dutch. Think of it as an improvement. We can move quicker. There’s more money for all of us.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Dutch groaned, putting a hand over his stomach. The wound hadn’t been healing as well as they would’ve liked. “What are we gonna do about them O’Driscolls?”

“They’re stayin’ by the Elysian pool, just south of here,” Micah spat. “I say we ride out there to meet him. There weren’t many of them. If we move now, we can take them. It’s Colm, Dutch. We gotta take him out. Look what he’s done to you.”

Dutch was nodding his head in agreement. “Arthur, John. Are you willing to do one last ride for me?”

Arthur looked to the remainder of camp and the lack of people. “Yes, Dutch. We’ll ride for you.”

“I’m going to stay here with Dutch,” Hosea determined. “You boys ride out.”

“I’m gonna be stayin’ too,” Micah drawled. He spat into the snow beside his feet and coughed a little. “I ain’t in no shape for a fight.”

Hosea regarded him warily, but nodded. There was no sense in fighting with him. 

“One last ride of the van der Linde gang,” Arthur murmured, standing up. He grasped Dutch by the shoulder. “We’re gonna end this between gangs, Dutch. Then you’ll be free to pursue Tahiti, or wherever it is you wanna go.”

“Yes…” Dutch closed his eyes. “I did not forsee this happening, Arthur. None of it. But I promise you, after this, I will have a plan to see us to safety.”

* * *

Arthur rode out that afternoon with Sadie, John, Charles, Javier, and Bill. They were short on manpower, but he hoped it would be the same for the O’Driscolls. He and Sadie had knocked out a good chunk of their force. It should still be the case. 

They didn’t have much of a plan, if they were honest with each other. Each of them had a stick of dynamite and their gun of choice, and that was pretty much it. None of them said much as tiredness haunted them, exhausted from constantly being on the run, from one battle to the next. 

When they finally approached the Elysian pool hours later, they hopped off their horses and scouted ahead quietly and took cover behind trees, the pool just below them. Arthur brought out his rifle and used the scope to look ahead, and his heart dropped. It was a bloodbath by the pool. O’Driscoll men, mixed with Pinkerton men, littered the grassy floor. He focused on the one man walking around, recognizing him to be the Agent Milton, or whatever his name was. The Pinkerton who had been hunting the van der Linde gang for a good while now. 

Colm sat on his knees with his hands behind his head. His face was bloodied and his clothes disheveled.

“He’s ours to kill,” Sadie whispered angrily and shot her rifle down to the Pinkertons. Arthur grunted and tried to shoot Milton, a bullet scraping the man’s arm. He cursed and reloaded a bullet and tried to take another shot. Since Milton wasn’t popping out his head, he lifted the rifle to find Colm running away.

“This is for you, Dutch,” Arthur murmured and pulled the trigger. Colm dropped like a sack of potatoes and lay still. He didn’t give a moment to think that the gang leader was dead. He focused the next man and downed a Pinkerton. 

The tree next to him exploded and he took cover. He peeked his head around to make sure everyone was still on their feet and fighting. Charles and Javier had made their way down the hill and had their rifles out, downing the rest of the enemies. Arthur grabbed his shotgun and charged down the hill, silently thanking the fact the O’Driscolls had taken out most of the Pinkerton’s forces. Otherwise, it wouldn’t have been enough.

Agent Milton stood up and shot at Arthur, missing him by a hair. Arthur was quick to respond and sent Milton flying backwards, the pellets embedded into his chest. Arthur charged at him and pressed the shotgun to the man’s neck.

Milton spat out blood and glared at him. “You win, Mr. Morgan,” he growled, his voice gurgling. “Your rat stayed true.”

“Our rat?” Arthur accused. “Who’s our rat?”

“Pity… you don’t know.” Agent Milton’s breathing stilled, and he was no more. Angrily Arthur looked around, the word _rat_ repeating in his head. There was only one logical explanation. Micah. Micah had ratted them out to the Pinkertons… but does that mean Micah also betrayed the Pinkertons? It made no sense.

He looked around him and saw Sadie sitting on top of a corpse, a knife in her hand. She let out a sob and impaled the knife into the dead man’s neck. “I was supposed to kill you,” she wailed, lifting the knife and impaling it once more. “You were supposed to be mine.”

Arthur was over to her in an instant and pulling her away. “Sadie,” he soothed, running a hand down her hair and pulling her to him. “The man is dead. You got your revenge.”

“But he was mine,” she cried into his shirt.

“He can’t harm anyone else now.” Arthur led her away from the body. “Sadie, this is your revenge. The man is dead and can’t harm anyone else. The man who killed Jake is dead and gone.”

Sadie sniffed and didn’t say anything. 

The other men were looting as quick as they could. 

“We gotta go,” Arthur called out. “Milton mentioned a rat. I think it’s Micah. He’s double crossing us both.”

“Why’d he send us after the O’Driscolls, then?” Charles questioned.

Worry flashed through Arthur. “So he could be alone with Dutch,” he realized. “Think about it. He was always by Dutch’s side, always complainin’ there was too many people. With us out of the loop, he and Dutch could do anythin’ they wanted.”

“Hosea, Uncle, and Miss Grimshaw-” John started.  
“I know. We gotta go-” Arthur paused and stopped by a dark haired O’Driscoll. He let go of Sadie and kneeled down to push the dead man over. The wrinkled face, the ugly, bent nose, toothy scowl… this was the man who haunted his dreams. “May you rest in hell,” Arthur muttered, and stood up, feeling suddenly dizzy. He put his arm around Sadie and together they walked back to their horses, a mutual understanding between the two of them.

Their past was officially dead. The only way was to move forward. 

The ride back to Beaver Hollow was slow, the snow coming down in sheets. It was impossible to track anything in the thickness of the snow and the darkness of the night, impossible to see if anybody had entered the path to Beaver Hollow. Yet they continued up the path and around the corner, only to run into a band of Pinkertons. Lanterns were lit all around them, casting an orange hue over them.

Agent Ross stood at the head, his pistol drawn and at his side. Ten men stood behind him, guns drawn. The snow seemed to halt once they locked eyes. Ross beamed at them with a smug expression. 

“And where’s Dutch?” he asked, looking at all of them. “Micah said you’d all be here.”

They hadn’t found Dutch. That was reassuring. Arthur had his hand on his pistol, ready to draw. He could take out three, easily, but the rest he’d have to leave to Sadie and men. 

“Why don’t you ask your friend, Agent Milton?” John called back. “Oh, wait. Micah sent us after him. You’ll be pleased to know Colm O’Driscoll is dead, along with Agent Milton.”

Anger flashed through Ross’ eyes. “What do you- nevermind. Fire!” 

Arthur’s horse bucked at that exact moment and he took down two Pinkertons, his horse falling backwards. One of them had shot Roy, his horse. A wave of emotions swept through him as he narrowly avoided being crushed under his own horse. Roy heaved in pain; Arthur would have to deal with him later. A bullet nicked his arm, sending spurts of pain up and down his arm. He ignored it and dove behind a tree for cover, the wood shattering behind him.

“Watch out!” Charles yelled and tossed a stick of dynamite towards the group of men. It caught two of the Pinkertons in the legs, sending them flying. 

Agent Ross was falling back, him and one Pinkerton left. John ran forward and shot Ross twice in the chest, sending him falling backwards. The last Pinkerton was taken down by Javier, and it took them a moment to realize they had won.

Arthur breathed a sigh of relief, but heard his horse wheezing. He crept over and pressed his hand against Roy’s cheek. Roy took his last breath a moment later and all became quiet. 

“You were perfect,” Arthur whispered to Roy. “Thank you.”

“Miss Grimshaw!” He heard Bill call out. Arthur tenderly stepped away from Roy and ran to Bill. He nearly stumbled once he saw Miss Grimshaw lying on the ground, a bullet wound in her chest. 

Arthur sank to his knees and held a hand to her neck. It was cold. “She’s been dead for hours,” he whispered. “Where’s Uncle?”

“Over here,” Charles yelled. “He’s still alive!”

Uncle was visibly shivering, the snow red around his shoulder. Sadie hastily covered him with a blanket and Charles was pressing a cloth to Uncle’s bloody shoulder. 

“I ain’t gonna make it,” Uncle groaned between shivers. “So-so cold.”

John knelt down and handed Charles a fresh cloth. “Don’t talk like that.”

“Your lady-friend, Arthur. She’s in-trouble. Dutch-” Uncle’s lips were blue. 

Despair ran through Arthur like a wave. “Charles, Bill, Javier, you stay with Uncle,” Arthur demanded. “Sadie, John, with me. I’m going to borrow your horse, Charles.” He didn’t wait for permission. He was on the horse and racing down the path as fast as he could.

Her house wasn’t far, only a couple hours ride away. The early morning hours were upon them, promising sunlight in a few hours. Exhaustion lingered in his bones, yet he continued on, Sadie and John close at his heels. Micah had betrayed them in waves, that snake. He would tear Micah apart if he harmed Charlotte or Dutch in any way. 

Arthur felt a white cold fury he hadn’t harnessed in years. He had felt it when he was a young man, ready to take on the world that wouldn’t accept who he was. The outlaw. Now he was that Arthur Morgan once more, not caring who he hurt. He wouldn’t let what happened to Eliza happen to Charlotte. Not again.

When they reached the waterfall, they dismounted their horses and approached on foot. The snow had stopped falling for several hours now, and they easily spotted tracks in the low morning light. There were three horse tracks. Hosea hadn’t been accounted for yet - maybe he was with them, chasing after them.

A gunshot echoed throughout the forest and Arthur found himself running towards the house. Firelight could be seen from the window. He readied his pistol and kicked open the door. There was a scream from Charlotte, who was hiding in the corner of the living room. Sadie instantly holstered her gun and went to calm her down.

Hosea stood in the middle, his head bloodied and a gun in hand. He stood above a wheezing Micah who writhed on the floor, a bullet wound in his shoulder. “You made it,” Hosea said simply to Arthur. “I found the rat. Too late, I’m afraid. Miss Grimshaw and Uncle are dead.”

Micah divulged into a coughing fit. “You piece of shit-” he said between coughs, “-you both don’t deserve him! I almost had him away from the O’Driscolls, the Pinkertons, from you!”

Arthur stomped over and lifted Micah up from his collar. “Why did you come here?!” he roared at the coughing man.

“Because… you always come back, Morgan. You always come back and win Dutch’s favor. This was my last defense. To use her against you.” Micah’s head fell back as blood dribbled out of his mouth. 

“Drop him, Arthur. He’s sick,” Hosea warned. 

With one last glare, Arthur shoved Micah to the ground and pulled back. 

“It would’ve been perfect,” Micah continued. “But then I caught this damn TB… I had to rush things. I had to get you away, Morgan. One by one. But my plan backfired. They captured Dutch. They had him,” he pined. “But I got to see him… one last time.”

“Where is he?” Arthur asked Hosea quietly.

Hosea shook his head. “He’s in the back, Arthur, but… he didn’t make it.”

John darted past Arthur, who quickly followed. They opened the bedroom door to find a peaceful Dutch, his stomach bright red from the wound that never healed. His hair was slicked back as it always had been and his expression was calm, as if he didn’t have a worry in the world. John turned away and angrily punched the door frame. Arthur sank into a chair next to the bed and pulled off his hat, the loss sinking into him. 

All of this… only for Dutch to die. Arthur put his head in his hands and forced back a sob. 

It seemed ages until Hosea stepped into the room and sat on the bed next to Dutch. “He loved you two like his own sons, you know,” he said to them, his voice soft. “He wished nothing but the best for all of us.” 

“We failed him,” John said simply. 

“It meant a lot to him that you rescued us.” Hosea took Dutch’s hand. “You waited for the opportune moment. But even Dutch knew the gang couldn’t stay together. He was accepting of people leaving. It was the only way his family could be safe, when he wasn’t physically strong enough to protect them. He knew Micah had fallen to a place he couldn’t go. Obsession is a dangerous game, Arthur. It was killing Dutch and the gang’s future - and eventually, it did.”

Arthur’s voice was course. “He deserved his freedom.”

“So do we all.” Hosea closed his eyes. “I loved Dutch. Saw the greatness in him. I knew he would need me to support him, but alas…” his words wandered off. “He found it in Micah, and it killed him. Micah shot Miss Grimshaw first, then Uncle. By the time I got to him, he pushed me aside and knocked me senseless. It’s a blessing and a curse he didn’t shoot me then. Dutch tried to stop him, I know, because I heard him screaming at Micah - but it was too late. Micah dragged Dutch here. The poor lady was tied up, Dutch was dying on the bed, Micah was… not himself.” He was silent for a few moments. “We should leave soon. John, if you could please help me with Dutch. Arthur, go talk to your lady friend.”

Charlotte stood in the living room, a blanket around her shoulders. Fresh tears still coursed down her cheeks. She only seemed to cry more when she saw Arthur. Sadie bit her lip and took her leave quietly outside, the door closing softly behind her.

“This is what your life was,” Charlotte hiccuped. 

“Not all the time,” Arthur said awkwardly. “Charlotte, I… I’m so sorry this had to come to you. I don’t know how Micah found out who you were-”

“Shortly after you left, the night after, I encountered this man in the woods.” Charlotte motioned to Micah, who was now dead, bleeding onto Charlotte’s floor. “He didn’t say anything. Just stared at me and left. I didn’t know who he was… but now I know. He was a figure from your past and it caught up to you.”

Arthur was tempted to put a bullet through the dead man’s skull, but put it past him. “I’m glad you’re okay.” He stepped forward with the intention to wrap an arm around her, but she bristled away once he got closer. He respected her space and took a seat on the edge of the couch. 

“You’re a good man, Arthur Morgan. You are.” Charlotte sniffled and pulled the blanket closer. “But I fell for a man who wasn’t an outlaw, a man who didn’t know who he was, a man with the perfect amount of respect and love to give. I fell in love with Arthur Adler, not Arthur Morgan. I don’t think I can offer you my affection… only my friendship. I think it’s best that way, for the two of us. When you left, I didn’t understand. Now… I do.”

Arthur stood back up and put on his hat. “You are a wonderful woman, Charlotte. I wish you all the happiness.”

Through her tears, Charlotte smiled. “And you, Mr. Morgan.”

The next few hours passed in a blur. They took the bodies of Micah and Dutch, leaving behind a bloody mess of a memory for Charlotte. Arthur hated leaving Charlotte behind, hated leaving the way he was, yet they knew it was for the best. 

The ride to Beaver Hollow was solemn. They were tempted to leave the body of Micah for the pigs, but ultimately decided to leave his body at Beaver Hollow. Charles, Javier, and Bill greeted them with the news Uncle had passed from frostbite and loss of blood. With their hearts heavy, they all headed west to bury the bodies of Dutch, Miss Grimshaw, and Uncle.

As they left the mountains and the snow behind, they decided to bury them at Horseshoe Overlook, the last place everyone had truly been happy. It was a short ceremony, with the remaining gang looking over the graves, saying simple words of remembrance, of love, of the joy they had being a part of Dutch’s gang. 

They bid their solemn goodbyes and split whatever gang money they had left. Hosea did not have an idea where he would end up, but promised he would write. Bill and Javier took off together, two men with no homes or attachments, not knowing what to do with themselves. Charles took off for the north, promising to visit them again. 

As John, Arthur, and Sadie continued to Strawberry to meet with Abigail, Arthur felt a longing. He had lost the flower he kept by his bed and the flower only grew in Oregon and Washington. He was looking for an opportunity, had no attachments, the law still thought he was dead - he could return to Oregon for good. 

A few nights later, he brought this up to John. 

“Oregon?” John asked, scrunching his nose. “What’s one to do there?”

“Considerin’ we ain’t good at nothin’ except horses and hard labor…” Arthur scratched his neck. “We become ranch hands, get our feet wet. We ain’t got much to show for bein’ an outlaw, but it ain’t safe for us to be in this area much longer.”

John let out a long, irritated sigh. “Fine, me talk to Abigail.”

Sadie was sitting in Mary Beth’s tiny living room, sipping a cup of tea. “When we leavin’?”

“Oh? You wanna come?” Arthur hadn’t been sure if she wanted to stay with them. 

“Ain’t nothin’ for me here. O’Driscolls are dead. Anyhow, I never been that far west. Why not?”

_Two Year Later_

Arthur Morgan was nervous. He and John had bought land together with money raised off of bounty hunting and being farmhands over the past two years. It had taken much convincing of Abigail to move to Oregon in the first place. It was far away from what they knew and were comfortable with, but it was far away enough the law wouldn’t come looking for them. 

Their new farmland wasn’t much, but there had been enough left over to buy the lumber for their houses. It was a simple, small town in a valley lush with a deep river and greenery. It had been a couple difficult years, as the journey to Oregon took months, and finding work was stressful. Everyone had to pull their weight, and still they had little money to show for it.

Nevertheless, they stayed in communication with everyone from the gang, eventually learning everybody’s new locations. It was a way to keep going, to know everyone was thriving in their new lifestyles. Everybody kept in touch - except Hosea, who randomly showed up on John’s uneven doorstep.

“Did we teach you nothing?” Hosea had grinned at them as they hammered away at John’s house. “Here, hand me a hammer. We’ll get these built in no time.”

A month later, John’s house stood tall, while Arthur’s house on his land was half finished. He walked through it, feeling a bit foolish about the whole idea. He didn’t know the first thing about running a ranch. He had learned how to work it, but not to run it. It was daunting, though he planned to start with raising horses. It was something he was familiar with, and he had a few connections for papered horses through Kieran, who helped run the stable in Strawberry.

It would work out, he kept telling himself. But something was missing.

“We’ll have to get this finished soon, before the rain hits,” Sadie said, making him jump out of his reverie. She stepped over a piece of lumber, dressed in a simple gown of blue and white. She wore a simple straw hat on her head, with her hair let down in natural waves around her head. 

She had stayed with them through thick and thin, giving her all in the bounties, helping hunt, fish, and building the houses. She helped Abigail with her letters and continued to teach Jack his. The sun had given her a nice tan, bringing out her freckles, and she moved about as if the weight on her shoulders had disappeared. She smiled more, laughed more - but she and Arthur never attempted to be together again, and it was killing him. He had given her time, her space, but he didn’t know if she wanted him back anymore. 

The house wouldn’t be complete without her.

“You okay there, Arthur?”

“Just… thinkin’.”

“Oh, that’s dangerous.”

Arthur leveled a fake glare at her, noticing her smile. “You sure know how to cheer a man up.”

“Ah, sorry,” Sadie grinned. “What’s botherin’ you? I swear I’ll listen.”

Arthur had to tell her. He grabbed her hand and pulled her closer to him. He stared into her brown eyes silently, gathering up the courage to confess to her. She had a soft smile on her face, as if she was ready to accept what he was going to say. 

“I been thinkin’, Sadie… we been friends. You stuck with me for the past couple of years. But we ain’t gone past that line we set for ourselves. We ain’t risked bein’ anything more. I need to know somethin’, Sadie. I built this house because I was dreamin’ of a life not only of my own, but with a family. A family with you... if you’ll have me.”

Sadie tilted her head, her smile growing wider. “I been waitin’ for you to say somethin’, Arthur Morgan. If you’ll have me.”

Arthur grinned down at her and brushed his nose against hers. “I asked you first.”

“You the one who been so distracted-”

He shushed her with a long awaited kiss. At that moment, with her kissing him back with a fierce passion - he knew life, for once, had a future waiting for him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.

**Author's Note:**

> If you read my Blood, Sins, and an Outlaw, you will find that this is a similar storyline. This story here is one of the endings I had wanted, but originally went with another. In this plot, I am planning to take more risks with character development that I was too hesitant to write about. I was nervous about posting this, due to it’s more serious nature.
> 
> Second part is written and will be posted in a few days. Third part is currently in the development stage. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Please leave a review, if you can! :)


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